


Promises on Aquas

by Galsult



Series: The Worlds of Lylat [7]
Category: Star Fox Series
Genre: Love and Marriage, M/M, Wedding Planning, political maneuvering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2020-11-24 16:34:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 81,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20910716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galsult/pseuds/Galsult
Summary: Star Fox heads to Aquas for a momentous occasion, one which will forever alter the team's trajectory.  Emotions run high, and the mercenaries find themselves asking questions about their own futures.But there are no easy answers - especially as the political situation in Lylat grows ever more precarious, and our heroes find themselves at the center of decisions with ramifications that go far beyond themselves.





	1. Chapter 1

“I hate this”, the jackal gritted out through all-but-clenched teeth, high-powered flashlight in one paw while the other rested near his hip, ready to draw his blaster at a moment’s notice.

“You hate _everything_”, his raccoon partner responded without any of the canine’s tension, flashlight-less free paw holding a steaming espresso in a to-go cup rather than a gun. The raccoon’s baggy, sleep-deprived eyes scanned the dark hallway listlessly. “I’d rather be down here than up _there_, anyway.”

The jackal’s leg involuntarily twitched at his partner’s comment – it was a tick of his, something that happened whenever someone said something that really grated on him. “_’Up there’_ is where they’re planning the future of the system. Where they’re working on stuff that’s actually _important_.” The jackal growled just a little bit. “Where they’re not wasting time hunting ghosts.”

The raccoon just stared at him vacantly. He was more than used to Gerald’s outbursts at this point, seeing as they’d enlisted at around the same time and had been working together for almost a decade. He’d learned early on the best way to handle them was to let him talk it all out. He knew the canine had a deep-seated need to always be at the center of action, and he often wondered where that need came from.

But not quite enough to actually try and find out.

The raccoon continued to slowly walk down the dark hall, knowing Gerald would follow. “It’s not like what we’re doing here isn’t important, you know?”, he said conversationally.

“Yeah. Just _less_ important”, Gerald grumbled.

The raccoon chuckled – he couldn’t argue with that. A year ago, neither of them would’ve been seen as expendable enough to put on a task as comparatively lowly as doing security rounds. Gerald had been one of the top spies in the LCI, with a promising future of infiltrating the underworld and becoming Corneria’s point-man in the Enclave, while Rentador was pegged as being one of the most brilliant tactical minds in the whole system, despite his youth.

Then Titania happened, and Gerald suddenly found himself kicked out of his intended path, his identity compromised. Shortly afterwards, _Fichina_ happened, and Rentador earned the dubious honor of having headed up one of the most disastrous ops in LCI history.

No one was ever _officially_ demoted in the LCI, as ‘rank’ was a more fluid concept in the intelligence world than in the Navy proper – but it was plainly obvious to Rentador that he and Gerald had been doing the lion’s share of glorified security guard duty lately, while simultaneously being left out of the loop when it came to operations and planning.

His sole consolation was that it was probably only a temporary situation for himself; he’d only cocked-up the one mission, after all, and it was mostly due to events he couldn’t have possibly anticipated. Eventually Hugin would take his name off the shitlist and he’d be right back where he was.

Gerald, though? Rentador wasn’t sure what the jackal would do – his whole future had been set on his being an inside agent. He hadn’t spent any time cultivating skills that weren’t directly related to acting, blending in, and combat effectiveness. Now that everyone in the underworld knew his face, his future looked pretty dicey. Rentador almost thought he might have better luck transitioning out of the LCI and into the Navy. Gerald was ruthless, after all; he’d make a good strike team commander.

That’s what Rentador would do with him, anyway. If he was actually in charge, or even involved with planning.

Which he wasn’t, because he was equally as expandable as Gerald now, and they were both making endless loops of the Spire’s labyrinthine, barely-lit basement complex, looking for threats that didn’t exist.

If he was just a _little_ more prideful of a procyon, it’d probably really piss him off.

As he heard Gerald continue to absentmindedly emit a low growl from off to his right, he couldn’t help but laugh. The jackal turned to glare at him, and he responded to it with a smug grin. “What?”, he asked exaggeratedly.

The jackal’s golden eyes were full of that unique, anal-retentive anger that was so peculiar to him. Rentador thought he could give Hugin a run for his money when it came to looks that successfully managed that fine line between simmering rage and constipation. “How can you be laughing at a time like this?”

The raccoon shrugged slightly. “It’s _always_ ‘a time like this’ with you. If I did what you wanted, I’d never laugh, period.” He put on a disarming smile. “Besides, this is only temporary. We’ll be back up there sooner or later.”

_Or at least I will_, he thought.

“_Maybe_”, Gerald bit back. “You don’t know that for sure.” The jackal expelled a jet of breath forcefully through his nostrils, earning another chuckle from Rentador. Even his _sighs_ were extreme.

The raccoon let out one of his own and stopped to mess around with his motion detector, watching as the sonar arc on his device did another sweep. “Would you look at that”, he said faux-enthusiastically. “It’s been another ten minutes, and there’s _still_ nothing unexpected showing up. Can’t say I saw that result coming.”

“Don’t make light of the situation”, Gerald said brusquely. “We need to be vigilant.” His eyes took on a fiery glow. “Even if we’re at the bottom of the totem pole; even if the director is rubbing our pride on the bottom of his soles –”

“ – Even if you’re taking this all way too seriously –”

“ – Someone _still_ made their way down here”, Gerald said, ignoring Rentador’s interruption. “Just because a task isn’t glorious doesn’t mean it’s not important. _Someone_ has to secure the Spire, after all.”

Rentador raised a brow in mock challenge. “And you really _want _to be that someone?”

“Fuck, no”, the jackal spit out instantly – and when Rentador laughed this time, he didn’t tell him to stop.

Though Rentador had to admit he had a point, blustering though it may be. Someone really _did_ break into the Spire a few months back, and no one ever found the culprit, or even any evidence that they’d ever been there. The security recordings clearly showed an unauthorized female flamingo (such a conspicuous animal too, to add insult to injury) accessing the elevator system – _despite_ the presence of an elevator attendant, who swore up and down he’d never seen such an avian – who then makes her way to one of the elevators leading to the Spire’s basement (despite their existence being secret), is seen exiting the elevator, and then never shows up on another recording.

At first, the intrusion was kept incredibly top-secret, as the LCI and higher-ranking Navy officials sought an explanation. But, as things always do in the military, the story leaked to some lower-level personnel, and before long the case of the vanishing flamingo had become another one of those Spire ghost stories that popped up from time to time – another urban legend to add to the compendium.

Hugin had practically pulled his feathers out one-by-one over the weeks succeeding the intrusion. Rentador almost thought the one-two punch of the missing intruder and his Fichina fuck-up would send the bird into an early grave brought on by a stress-related heart attack. The raven actually took a one-day sabbatical shortly after the frenzy died down – which, sure, might not have been much for most people – but Hugin? Him taking a day would be like a normal person taking a year. It was unheard of.

So now, by mandate, a pair of agents was always on patrol duty in the Spire’s basement; and more often than not, that pair was Rentador and Gerald.

It’d been a few months now, and they were still no closer to finding out what happened to their flamingo friend. Rentador thought there was a solid likelihood they’d _never_ find out. If you asked him, he thought it was probable someone hacked into the Spire’s camera system and spliced the footage into the recordings somehow. It made more sense than an animal breaking into the most secure location in the entirety of the Lylat System and surviving by themselves for several months, avoiding detection all the while.

“I gotta take a piss”, Gerald grumbled, interrupting his train of thought.

“I’m not stopping you”, he replied. The two of them walked towards the nearest restroom together, making sure to not split up (as per protocol). Rentador waited outside though; damn if he was going to keep the jackal company while he did his business.

He reclined against the pitch-black wall behind him, shivering a little at its low temperature. The LCI’s headquarters were unreasonably cold and dark, he thought as his breath misted lightly in the air, faintly colored a crystalline blue by the dim running head and floor-lights that lined the halls.

“_Rentador!_”

He jumped at Gerald’s voice coming from within the public restroom.

“_Get your ass in here!_”

The raccoon wasted no time in following his partner inside the room – noticeably brighter than the hall beyond. For whatever reason, the restrooms in the Spire’s basement looked identical to those on every other floor of the building. It was always a bit of a clash when you went to relieve yourself, stepping out from a midnight rave and into generic office-style décor.

“What’s up?”, he asked, drawing his blaster when he saw Gerald already had his out, standing in the middle of the room.

The jackal cocked his head towards an open stall, and Rentador stalked towards it, blaster at the ready. He peered inside, and saw nothing out of the ordinary. He turned back to face Gerald with a bemused grin. “Wanted to show off how well you’re toilet-trained?”

“Idiot”, Gerald grumbled. “Look closer. At the toilet.”

Now thoroughly confused, Rentador more carefully analyzed the contents of the stall. Still nothing.

His face must have told Gerald as much, because this time the jackal stepped into the stall with him. “I never normally use this stall. I always use the one at the far corner.”

“…To piss?”

Gerald ignored his question. “So I never noticed. Go look at the toilets in the other stalls. Pay attention to their bases.”

Rentador thought he might be beginning to understand what the canine was implying. He hoped he was wrong.

But upon examination of the neighboring commodes – alas – no cigar. “The screws are different”, he said. “The ones on this toilet’s base aren’t like the others”.

Upon confirmation of his suspicion, Gerald fucking _shot_ off the screws holding the suspicious toilet in place and squatted down to shove the whole thing aside, jets of water shooting out from the now-severed pipes be damned.

“You know you could’ve just removed those like a normal person?” He wasn’t looking forward to explaining why Gerald decided to start shooting up a bathroom in his next status report.

The jackal ignored him and finished pushing the toilet and its wide base aside – revealing a much larger hole than should be present under a toilet, one without any piping.

“_Oh my God_”, Rentador mumbled. “We never got her escaping on camera because there aren’t any cameras in the restroom.”

He glanced over to see Gerald already had his comm-device out. “Captain”, the jackal said a little loudly, trying to speak over the sound of water rushing from the pipes.

“We think we found out how the intruder escaped.”

……….

# I

……….

“_Innovation_”, said the slick-looking hound on the holoset, making sturdy, powerful gestures with his paws while he paced back and forth on the stage. “_Is the key to the future. And we believe _communication_… is the key to innovation._” The crowd watching him began a chorus of planned-sounding applause.

Peppy rolled his eyes as he watched the footage unfold from his place on the other side of the waiting room, wishing for the life of him the station was tuned into anything else. WHEEL released a new comm-device every year, it felt like – he didn’t see how this one could possibly be different from the last.

Then again, he supposed he _was_ a cranky old-timer nowadays. Who was he to judge?

“General Peppy?”, a relaxed female voice called tentatively, pulling his attention away from the blustering canine on the holoset. The tabby cat nurse eyed him expectantly – he was the only one in the facility’s waiting room, after all, and practically everyone knew his face.

He shot her a warm smile and stood up, pressing his paws down onto his thighs for leverage. He made sure not to grimace at the discomfort as he did so – he didn’t like to think the fact that it wouldn’t be too much longer until _he_ was in a place like this. Doddering, dyskinetic.

Helpless.

The nurse extended her right paw, the other holding a tablet close to her chest, and Peppy grasped it. “My name’s Annabeth. I’ll take you right back to see him.”

Peppy nodded sagely. “I’d be right appreciative of it.”

The pair walked slowly down the halls of the hospice, and Peppy couldn’t help his thoughts from wandering down the halls and rooms they passed by – couldn’t help from fixating on the little glimpses of the animals he saw within them. How _old_ they looked, how broken, and what a contrast it made with the mellow, tasteful surroundings. The facility was equal parts top-of-the-line hospital and relaxation center, so the medical equipment was all designed to flow seamlessly with the cream-and-coffee colored rooms, all bathed in plenty of natural light and interspersed with copious gardens.

It was about a good a place to die as any, Peppy thought.

“Here we are!”, the nurse said cheerily. If she was affected at all by the inherent dissonant nature of the complex, she hid it well. “He already knows you’re coming, so you can go right on in.”

He smiled at the nurse. “Thanks for the help, Annabeth.”

She smiled at him in turn. “Any time.”

As she walked away, he let his forced smile fall, and mentally braced himself for the encounter to come. He always struggled with these meetings, even if he didn’t show it. Watching your mentor slowly fade away into the night bit by bit was an abstract kind of torture.

He knocked lightly on the door and waited for a response.

“_Come in_”, a gruff voice from within strained out.

Peppy took a deep breath and put on the same smile he gave the nurse, opening the door and stepping into the room beyond. It was just as pleasant and well-attended as the rest of the facility – making the sunlit patient in the bed look all the worse for wear. The old hound’s jowls had become even more pronounced since the last time Peppy was here, the skin getting ever-looser. He had a new tube added to the growing collection too, this one plugged into his nostrils. The hound turned his head to the side and just stared at Peppy.

“Wipe that fake smile off your face, General”, he said gruffly, voice wheezing. “Just because I’m half-dead doesn’t mean I’m going to suddenly start tolerating bullshit.”

Peppy’s ersatz smile turned real. “Good to see you too, Pepper.”

The hound huffed, and the vocal gesture set off a coughing fit. Peppy politely waited for it to subside.

“…You know”, Pepper said with a grumble as the wheezing ceased. “You don’t have to keep coming here. I know you hate it.”

Peppy frowned. “I do. But I also know it’ll annoy you more if I keep showing up”, he answered with a grin.

Pepper chuckled; a low, desperate-sounding thing. “Well then, consider me sufficiently annoyed. I can’t move on to that great, green pasture in the sky if you keep dragging be back to life.”

“All the more reason to come even _more_ often, then.” Peppy waited as Pepper’s laugh segued into another bout of coughing before continuing. “Actually, I wanted your advice on something.”

The hound groaned. “What could you possibly need my help with? You’re already a better general than I ever was.”

Peppy shook his head. “We’re going to have to agree to disagree on that one, old friend.”

“_Hmph_. Be that as it may”, the hound continued. “You’ve got a good handle on things as far as I can tell. At least it looks that way from the outside.” He pointed to the comm-device on the dresser next to his bed. “I still read the news, you know. We’re not in the middle of any wars, Venom is part of Lylat again, and the Navy looks stronger than ever. You’re doing fine.”

Peppy’s face dropped somewhat. “All three of those are potentially at risk right now, though.”

“_Bah_”, the hound waved his paw. “Everything’s _always _at risk: it’s part of being in the military. What’s important is how you _handle_ the risk.”

“Which is why I’m here”, Peppy responded. “It’s this business with Bowman’s proposal. It’s gotten the House all up in a tizzy.”

“This again?”, Pepper all-but moaned. “Just get up on a podium and tell them they’re being a bunch of ninnies about it and to let the monkey do what he damn well wants. And if Bowman snaps and decides he wants to conquer Lylat later on, we’ll just blow him up.”

Peppy dropped his head to hide his laughter.

“What? What’s so funny?”

He lifted it back up to meet Pepper’s eyes. “Nothing, General”, he said. “I just miss your… _direct_ approach to handling sensitive political issues.”

Pepper resettled himself into a more comfortable position. “Corneria could _use_ a bit more ‘directness’ these days if you ask me. This business with the LCI handling everything is a farce. I’ve never been a fan of them, you know. Too many cooks in the kitchen muddy the water, or something like that.”

“I think you’re getting your aphorisms mixed up there, sir.”

“What does it matter? You get my point.” The hound closed his eyes for a second before continuing. “How does our _illustrious leader_ feel about the issue?”

Peppy ignored the jibe at the prime minister and answered. “He supports Bowman’s proposal, but only in philosophical terms. I don’t think he plans to actively stump for it, or anything like that. He seems content to sit this one out while the legislature fights over it.”

The hound grumbled. “Typical”, he spat. “The Navy should’ve just taken over after Andross seceded. You’d be a better leader than that pompous, puffed-up, self-satisfied –”

“I understand your point, sir”, Peppy interrupted. “And while I’m flattered, I think that’d also make us a military dictatorship. Which is what we were fighting against in the first place.”

“I know, I know”, the hound said dismissively. “Ignore my ramblings. They’re all over the place these days.” He sighed, the wheezing sound of it giving Peppy secondhand pain. “I don’t have much longer for this world, Peppy. You’re going to be on your own, soon, and that’s not a good place to be. So let me give you some real advice.”

He turned his head to the side to stare the rabbit straight-on. “Rely on your comrades. Even if they’re ‘under’ you on the chain of command, they will be your strength. They’ll hold you up when you’re the only one left at the top.” His expression grew into a pained smile. “The way you did for me.”

Peppy didn’t trust his own voice, so he simply nodded.

A moment passed, and Pepper spoke up again. “Speaking of, what are the tykes up to these days? Last I heard was that nasty business on Titania, then that equally nasty paparazzi hit on McCloud and O’Donnell.” He paused. “Speaking of, how the _hell_ does that relationship even work?”

Peppy earnestly chuckled. “If I knew, sir? I would tell you.” He felt his comm-device rumble and went to silence it. “They seem happy, though, so it must work one way or another.” Pepper hummed in thought, and Peppy continued. “Not the _only_ happy couple right now, though.”

The hound arched an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Peppy smiled. “Slippy’s getting married this week. I’m going to be at the ceremony, of course.”

Pepper narrowed his eyes. “Slippy? As in, Slippy _Toad?_” When Peppy nodded, the hound simply shook his head in a combination of disbelief and awe. “What in God’s name is the galaxy coming to when _he’s_ the first of them to get hitched?”

Peppy shot him a grin as he withdrew the comm-device, rumbling again. It looked like Hugin was trying to reach him. “Well, only God _can_ know, sir. Excuse me”, he said. “I should probably take this.”

The hound nodded and reclined back in his bed while Peppy left the room. He looked up at the ceiling and spoke to no-one in particular.

“Slippy goddamn Toad… what a world.”

……….

Peppy massaged his temples, trying in vain to calm himself. He was seated in a private cabin on a luxury government shuttle, waiting to arrive back at the Spire for another inevitable bout of bickering with Hugin. He wished there was someone, _anyone_, in the cabin with him, if for no other reason than to make smalltalk and distract himself.

But he had no such luck – so instead, his mind rocked back and forth in a tumult as he began to plan the now-suddenly-necessary investigation of Corneria’s massive sewer system for evidence of the now long-gone intruder. They’d have to cordon it off, of course, all while coming up with an excuse as to why that had nothing to do with the actual reason. He groaned as he realized what a logistical nightmare it was bound to be.

“_Sir?_”, his pilot’s voice came over the intercom. “_We’ll be coming up on the destination shortly_.”

Peppy frowned and looked out the window – they were at the Spire, alright, but not heading for the landing pad near his office. Peppy pressed down on the intercom button. “Captain Lorren? What’s going on?”, he asked calmly.

“_Sorry, sir. I had orders to change your route_.” Lorren paused for a beat, and Peppy watched the ship’s surroundings as they ascended. “…_And to not tell you about it_.”

Peppy sighed exasperatedly – this was the last thing he needed right now. There was only one person who could pull something like this, and Peppy had too much on his plate at the moment to deal with said person.

Of course, he must have _known_ that, which is why he ordered Lorren to keep it a secret.

“Alright”, Peppy answered. “Carry on.” He certainly wasn’t happy about it, but there was nothing his captain could do. Orders were orders, after all – the chain of command was absolute.

He tried to mentally steel himself as much as he could on such short notice as the shuttle made the ascent towards the very top floor of the Spire. The atmosphere grew so thin at the pinnacle that, when you looked at the sky from _just_ the right angle, it took on a midnight-colored hue. The landing pads near the top were even vacuum-sealed like the ones you might find on a starship, just to mitigate the risk of oxygen loss.

Peppy stood up as the shuttle entered the heavily-defended hangar bay built into the third floor down from the very top. Directly below him was the massive atrium where the House of Commons met and spent most of their time squabbling – and directly above him were the personal offices and home apartments of the animal he could see waiting for him outside the shuttle through the window, flanked by a retinue of aides, officials, and security officers.

Peppy solemnly exited the craft as soon as the hydraulic doors unsealed and opened. He knew it wasn’t Lorren’s fault that this happened, but he was also just techy enough about it to not want to speak with the dog right now.

Instead, he made his way down the landing ramp and into the spacious hangar beyond. He put on a smile and extended his right paw. “Nice to see you so soon, Prime Minister.”

The red deer put on a smile of his own, every bit as false as Peppy’s, yet _much_ more effective at projecting strength. Prime Minister Elenas Hart wasn’t exactly a tall animal, and yet something about his presence felt towering. “Of course, Peppy.” His hand firmly gripped the hare’s paw, and he gave it a singular, solid shake while his shrewd green eyes bored into Peppy’s own. “It’s always a pleasure. I’m sorry I had to have you rerouted, though.”

Peppy shook his head. “It’s no trouble at all.” He took a look at Hart’s entourage without making it seem like he was overtly doing so. He recognized a few of the assembled animals, and noticed all three of Corneria’s major political parties were roughly evenly represented – the Minister had a good handle on crossing party lines and coming to consensus decisions. His supporters claimed it as his strongest asset, while his detractors saw it as an attempt to ingratiate himself with everyone in an act of pure politics.

But Peppy knew where both camps’ logic failed: they assumed the two were mutually exclusive.

“I doubt that”, the cervine said, his impressive rack of antlers turning as he shook his head. “I know you’re an incredibly busy animal, and I’m genuinely sorry about the interruption – _and_ the secrecy.”

Peppy grinned softly and nodded his head; Hart was a smooth-talker, there was no denying it. “Apology accepted. Now, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

The Minister signaled Peppy to walk alongside him as they began the trek to his office, the entourage hanging to the back and chattering amongst themselves. Peppy couldn’t help but make the mental connection and notice how similar the furnishings of the upper tier of the Spire looked to Pepper’s hospice. He wondered what the House might think of the fact that the halls of congress were a dead ringer for an end-of-life care unit.

Hart kept his hands folded behind him as he walked, head held high – Peppy thought he must have made a rough sight compared to the deer, old and gruff and stubby as he was. “Two things, in fact”, he said as he withdrew one hand and held it aloft. “Business”, the cervine said as he raised a finger. “Pleasure”, adding a second before turning to the hare. “And how the two come together.”

Peppy’s expression was equal parts thoughtful and amused. “An enigmatic answer, Minister.”

Hart let out a clarion laugh. “Do I ever give you any other type? Come, Peppy – let us speak in my office.”

They came to an abrupt spot outside a door that didn’t look different from any of the others lining this hallway, but Peppy knew better – the office beyond was twice the size of any of the others, and more luxuriously furnished to boot. Though it paled in comparison to the ministerial suites, which made up the entirety of the floor above them.

The entourage dispersed as the pair walked inside, causing Peppy to wonder what they’d even been doing coming with the Minister in the first place. Shrugging it off as another mystery of politics, Peppy sat down in the proffered chair across from Hart’s very large desk made of imported Fortunan hardwood as the Minister himself sat behind it. The deer crossed his legs steepled his hands.

“I’m debating if I should take a stronger stance on the Bowman issue.”

Peppy’s ears perked up. He’d made the educated guess that this was going to be their topic of discussion – what else could it be? – but actually taking a side on a controversial political issue was out-of-character for the cervine.

Said cervine laughed, obviously noticing Peppy’s suddenly nonplussed reaction. “Don’t look so shocked, Peppy. I might keep my cards close to my chest, but I’m not above making a play if I think it’s necessary.”

Peppy shook his head. “I never thought you were, Minister. It’s just – I pegged you as a career centrist on this one.”

Hart shrugged lightly. “That’s because I was. Until this business with Octovar started, anyway.”

Peppy frowned. The situation on Lylat’s border with the Octovar System was a highly unusual one – a sizeable number of Octovarian mercenary units had more or less set up camp along the edge of the neutral zone that separated the two systems a few months ago; and though no shots had yet been fired, it was still tense. There wasn’t even anyone _in_ the Octovar System to take their concerns to, since the system had no central government and the disparate mercenary units de facto ran everything.

And it just so happened that the planet whose spatial territory occupied the vast majority of the Lylat-Octovar border was Venom.

“You want to authorize a Venomian militia as a defense against possible Octovarian incursion?”

The Minister nodded. “Precisely. Bowman’s been breathing down my neck about it for over a year now, and we’ve already ruled out the possibility of placing Cornerian forces in the region so as not to… aggravate any grievances.”

Peppy nodded somberly. Venom still had a minority but sizeable contingent of people who supported Andross’ politics – it was Peppy himself who made the judgment call to not crack down and instead let the local government handle it, fearing the possibility of instigating violence. It didn’t take much to push a political dissident into becoming a terrorist, and Peppy knew widespread Cornerian intervention on Venom could be that push.

“The only issue”, Hart continued, “is that the S&Ss will want to burn me alive for it, and I’m not sure I’m in the mood to start poking _that_ particular hornet’s nest.”

Peppy shook his head. “Corlyne and his people are going to make a fuss no matter what you do.” Of Corneria’s three political parties, the Swords & Shields were the most focused on military matters – and they made up the vast bulk of the opposition to Bowman’s proposal. “You’re already poking that nest by not taking a side and sitting this one out. If you think this is the right thing to do, then you should do it.”

Hart looked at Peppy with an inscrutable gaze, head in hand. “You’re an idealist, aren’t you, General?”

Peppy frowned. “How do you mean?”

The cervine relaxed back into his chair, the vast cityscape of Corneria visible behind him through the wall-spanning window. “Do you truly trust Bowman to not use this authorization as a means to build up his own military and start another war?”

The hare’s paws unconsciously tightened into fists. “Dash Bowman put his life on the line to help end the Anglar Blitz. He flew alongside Star Fox.”

Hart smiled and shook his head. “And is being a temporary member of your alma mater unit a guarantor of future loyalty, then?”

Before Peppy had the chance to get indignant, the deer continued. “Speaking of – that actually brings us to the second half of our meeting.”

“…It does?”, Peppy asked, genuinely confused.

“Yes”, the Minister said with a smile. “I spoke of business and pleasure, and I meant it. I hear Slippy Toad’s wedding is shaping up to be something of a minor event?”

Peppy kept his eyes from narrowing as he nodded, beginning to see where this was going. “It’s definitely turning into something a little bigger than I think he bargained for. There’s been a lot of media attention.”

“Good”, Hart said as he stood up from his chair, apparently ending the meeting. “Because I’m about to make it a major event.” He straightened his suit jacket before looking back up to meet Peppy’s eyes. “Bowman is apparently going to be in attendance, being one of Toad’s acquaintances. So it only makes sense for me to go as well, no?”

Peppy felt his heart plummet in his chest. He heard from Fox in their call last week that Slippy was already stressed beyond belief – adding an attendance by the Prime Minster of Lylat, with all the regalia that entailed – Peppy didn’t even want to think about how the amphibian would handle it.

Then again, when the Minister decided he wanted to do something, there was little you could do to stop him – especially with a Minister as politically savvy as Hart.

“I… suppose so, Minister”, Peppy said at last.

“Good! It’s settled, then.” He put a reassuring hand on Peppy’s shoulder. “Let’s try to make a good time of it, shall we?”

Peppy nodded. “Of course.”

_Oh, Slippy_, he thought.

_I’m sorry for what’s about to happen_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are - this story marks the rough halfway point of the outline I came up with way back when I was writing Son of Titania, so make of that what you will.
> 
> Due to my now much-busier schedule, new chapters will continue to be more sporadic, but I'll post status updates on twitter to keep people abreast.
> 
> Thanks for kudos and comments as always, and criticism welcome!


	2. Chapter 2

# II

_“Hey, so…”_

_The amphibian’s voice trails off as it so often does, and Fox smiles at him to coax him to open up. Slippy’s under a lot of stress at the moment, and he’ll do anything he can to help._

_He tells Slippy as much – and is a little taken back by the question he gets in turn. Though it shouldn’t have been too much of a surprise; really, how didn’t he see this coming sooner?_

_Of course he’ll accept. And now Slippy’s eyes are bubbling up with thick tears, and Fox is patting him on the back. He feels a little like tearing up himself, but he holds it in._

_After all, it’s the duty of the best man to keep the groom grounded, isn’t it?_

……….

Fox’s elbow slipped off the armrest, causing his head leaning on his paw to slip right alongside it, waking him from his meditative state with a start.

“Sleeping on the job, eh, Fox?”

Falco’s sarcastic jibe from the seat to his left helped to bring him further into the world of total awareness. “Sort of”, the vulpine admitted. “Drifting off a little more than anything.”

His avian companion grunted. “I hear ya. If I have to sit here for much longer I’m going to go apeshit.”

Fox chuckled. “It’s not all _that_ bad, is it?” In truth, despite his attempt to get Falco to relax, Fox felt it sort of _was_.

Aquas was a notoriously stringent world regarding how it allowed people to arrive on-planet. Due to its status as having an untouched, pristine ecosystem, civilian visitors were forced to disembark on the orbital ring surrounding the planet first, where they’d then have their persons and belongings thoroughly sterilized. Only after this process was complete were they allowed to re-embark on visitor shuttles that would ferry them from the ring to the planet’s surface.

In theory it was a great idea. The purity of Aquas’ environment was essential both to the world’s balance and economy, considering its status as the most frequented tourist destination in all of Lylat. Of course, the fact that it _was_ the hottest go-to locale made the whole process an arduous nightmare – there were so many people that it took several hours just for Fox and his teammates to get situated on one of the inter-orbital shuttles. And now they’d been sitting here for _another_ hour just waiting for the craft to fill up so they could actually leave.

Fox never had to sit through this process in the past; the same rules didn’t apply to the military, for obvious reasons. He was beginning to develop a whole new appreciation for the thousands upon thousands of civilians that had to sit through this every time they wanted to go on-or-off planet; _especially_ the actual Aquas natives, who must’ve done this countless times in their lives if their careers ever took them off-world.

He chewed on the side of his mouth a little as he thought of the specific group of natives they were going to be meeting soon – well, if the shuttle would ever actually get on with it and depart, anyway. He turned to his right to look at the bright blue ball taking up most of his field of view outside the shuttle window, watching the shuttles travel back and forth between the orbital ring and the handful of small continents and countless miniature isles that dotted the cerulean seas like little green pinpricks. As he stared, his mind started to drift again, and he wondered what Amanda’s family was like.

“Earth to Fox”, Falco said while waving his wing obnoxiously. “Don’t fall away on me again, man. I can’t handle this by myself.”

Fox looked at Falco with a certain degree of chagrin. “You’re going to have to learn to develop a sense of patience one of these days, you know?”

Falco shrugged. “Maybe. But not today.” The avian scratched his beak. “What d’you think we’re in for with this, anyway?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like…” Falco squinted and cocked his head. “With everything, or whatever?”

Fox hung his head and let out a low laugh as shook it. “Glad you cleared that up.”

“Oh fuck off; you know what I mean.” Falco folded his arms. “With all this wedding shit?” He sighed. “I d’know man. It’s just…”

“…Weird?”, Fox put in.

“Yes”, Falco responded emphatically. “It’s weird as fuck. And I don’t like it. I don’t do ‘weird’”.

Fox thought on his friend’s words. It was just him and Falco in this compartment of the shuttle – Slippy and Krystal were in the next one down, and Wolf and his team were on another craft altogether. It was a rare opportunity; he didn’t get much one-on-one time with Falco these days, and he missed the ability to vent back and forth with another guy where there wasn’t some kind of mitigating factor involved. He was romantically involved with Wolf; Slippy was busy with the wedding (and it’d be weird to hash out Fox’s feelings on the wedding to the groom himself); and Panther… Fox wasn’t sure what to think of the enigmatic cat just yet. He was too distant – too aloof.

“I get where you’re coming from”, Fox confided. “It feels like I went to bed and woke up in the wrong life. Not that it’s _wrong_ that Slippy’s getting married”, he quickly amended.

“Of course not”, Falco added.

“It just… _feels_ wrong.” Fox frowned. “Maybe ‘wrong’ isn’t the right word. It just feels off.” He paused. “I think it’s because everything’s going to be different soon. It’s already _been_ getting different, with Wolf and his team – and now with Slippy leaving…”

Falco nodded slowly. “It’s happening too fast for us to keep up.”

Fox nodded in turn, not needing to add anything to Falco’s statement.

The bird sighed and leaned his head back against the seat. “This is gonna take some getting used to.”

Fox gripped Falco’s shoulder. “It’ll all be fine. _We’ll_ all be fine.”

Falco didn’t turn to look at him, but his beak developed the ghost of a smile. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”

“_Attention, passengers. The shuttle will be departing soon. Please take your seats_.”

The avian grumbled. “The moment of truth”, he said under his breath.

“Maybe”, Fox responded.

He turned to look at the planet again, and let his eyes get lost in the endless blue.

……….

“Sir?”, the simian attendant asked cautiously as she loomed above him. “This is a non-smoking area. I’m going to have to ask you to put that out, please”

Wolf languidly turned his head to look at her dead-on before reaching to lower his very unnecessary sunglasses down the length of his muzzle, revealing his eyes – one burning violet, and one decidedly not standard model. He flicked the cigarette around to the other side of his mouth with his tongue, leaving her hanging for a few seconds and enjoying every moment of it.

“Well?”, he asked at last. “Are you?” He heard Panther chuckle from the window seat to his right.

The monkey’s lower lip curled over her top in dissatisfaction, but she kept her tone polite. “Am I what, sir?”

The lupine’s expression grew into a shit-eating grin. “Going to ask me to put it out?”

He could see the grip on her tablet tighten, but she didn’t let any of the stress show on her face this time. “Very funny, sir. Can you please put that out?”

Wolf nodded at her. “Of course.” He plucked the offending item from his mouth and pressed the smoldering end to his armrest, simultaneously snuffing it and earning a grimace from the attendant.

“Thank you, sir”, she said with a tone that decidedly did not sound thankful.

“Any time”, he responded, sending her an unctuous wink as she walked down the aisle, presumably to harass some more innocent passengers. He was sad he was a few seats up the length of the ship from Fay – not least because he wouldn’t get to bear witness to whatever abstract hell she was inflicting on the person occupying the seat next to her.

“Must you _always_ be so uncouth?”, Panther asked as Wolf restored the sunglasses to their rightful place. It was an unusual look for him, but one he thought made sense when visiting such a primo tourist hotspot. He wasn’t as well-known of a figure as Fox, but there could only be so many wolves with cybernetic eyes out there – _someone_ was bound to put two-and-two together, and he wasn’t in the mood to deal with that.

_Especially_ after Katina.

He turned to face his teammate with a grin, raising his arms to rest his paws behind his head. “Says the guy who laughed.”

Panther’s face broke into an upturned smile. “It may have been funny, but it was also quite rude.”

Wolf shrugged. “She probably has to deal with shit like that constantly – she’s gotta be used to it by now. And if not?” He cocked his head to the side. “She’s going to have to learn at some point. I was just helping her forward her education.”

The jet-black feline arched an eyebrow. “By making an ass of yourself?”

“Ayep”, he shot back, emphasizing the last syllable with a pop.

Panther sighed and shook his head, and Wolf’s sensitive ears swiveled to catch a snippet of conversation coming from towards the back of the shuttle.

“…_And that was just the _first_ time I made my teacher cry! The second time was even more interesting –_”

He snickered a little. The damn dog had grown on him, slowly. It took a while for him to adjust to Fay’s… everything; but after the adjustment was made, he couldn’t deny the value of just kicking back and watching her interplay with others. Wolf never pretended to be a good man, or an honest one. Sometimes watching people suffer with bizarre social interactions was just plain the best entertainment an animal could get – and Fay was nothing if not a catalyst for that.

Though she was hardly the foremost canine on his mind.

He took a deep breath through his nose and just relaxed for a bit, ruminating over the last few months – and every wayward mental avenue and back alley he walked led back to Fox. The vulpine had – no – was still _having_ such a profound impact on everything he did. He still couldn’t decide if it was liberating or terrifying. Maybe he’d settle for both.

“_Attention, passengers. The shuttle will be departing soon. Please take your seats_.”

Panther shifted around a little in apparent anxiety. “_Finally_”, he grumbled under his breath.

Wolf grunted noncommittally in response, opting to keep his eyes firmly shut, lingering on the thought of Fox jogging down a picturesque Aquasian beach wearing an unreasonably skimpy swimsuit before realizing he’d never acquiesce to wearing something like that.

…At least, not without a lot of coaxing.

Wolf’s grin grew deadly as he started formulating his plan of action. This was a very delicate situation, he realized. One that demanded a high degree of strategy.

“Why are you smiling like that?”, he heard Panther ask as the shuttle’s engines kicked into gear. “You look the way you used to when we planned piracy raids. Like you’re making evil plans.”

Wolf let out a low chuckle. “Who says I’m _not?_”

……….

Krystal attempted to keep herself as calm as possible, but it was an uphill battle. She was more than used to filtering out mental noise at this point, but the successive waves of hyper-charged anxiety emanating from the amphibian next to her were giving her a bout of secondhand stress. Slippy just would _not_ stop fidgeting, and his internal screaming made a horrible vocal accompaniment to the janky, fibrillating rhythm he was tapping out on his armrests.

He gulped, signaling he was about to speak again. A half-second later the words came rolling off his tongue, his thought patterns jumbled along with them. “W-what if she decides to call it off, like, right as we’re walking down the aisle, and runs out crying, and then _I _start crying because she’s running out crying, a-and –”

“That won’t happen, Slippy”, she reassured him with equal amounts of amusement and exasperation. “Amanda loves you to pieces”. _Perhaps too much_, she thought, then instantly felt unkind for thinking such a thought.

But was the thought incorrect? Amanda doted on her husband-to-be to a degree that bordered on sickening.

Though perhaps Krystal was hardly the one to judge. What did _she_ know about functional relationships, anyway? Her only serious lover ended up gay – it didn’t get much more humiliating than that.

“Y-yeah, you’re right”, Slippy said. Despite his stuttering, he sounded at least a little less likely to have a panic attack now. Krystal internally sighed in relief; she loved the amphibian, she really did, but he’d been an absolute bear to handle over the last few months. Slippy was hardly the posterchild for handling high-stress situations, and the path towards his wedding had become something of a walk down death row – she could feel the tempestuous mix of tighlyt-wound tension, passionate love and debilitating fear brew in his mind like a hurricane that hovered in place.

It wouldn’t be too much longer till the storm passed, though. One more week of stressed-out Slippy, and she’d be scot-free.

She smiled and nodded at him as the ramifications of that line of thought became clearer. She really _would_ be free of Slippy’s endless fretting in a week – they all would. The thought filled her with a nascent fretting of her own.

Fox wasn’t the only one whose identity was tied almost exclusively to his team. Krystal was every bit as unsettled about the impending change as he was; perhaps even more so, though she hid it better. She had trouble picturing her life without Star Fox.

Which was a serious problem, considering Star Fox might in fact cease to be at some point in the not-so-distant future. She wouldn’t be completely lost without the unit – it wasn’t like those early years, where Star Fox was the only thing of Lylat she really knew and understood. She had friends like Lucy, contacts in the Navy like Peppy.

But did she really want to work with the Navy? A few years from now, that was, after Falco inevitably left, following that call to freedom in his heart she sensed from time to time when he was vulnerable. The Navy was so _stiff_, so _formal_ – and that business with the Cerinian clone (_Bella_, she reminded herself – _she has a name_) left her a little shaken. True, the culprits responsible for that particular bit of abuse were long dead – killed by Fox on Venom, in fact.

But Andross had been part of the Cornerian government before he seceded, hadn’t he? What was there to stop someone just like him from coming into power again? Lylat was a democracy now, but it had been before Andross rose to power, too – she’d read quite a bit more on the era after Fox shed some light on its shadowy underpinnings.

From what she’d gleamed, the House of Commons had slowly become more and more corrupt over an entire century, until it finally lost all semblance of acting as a representative body of the people of Lylat. The leadership of the system split into several cliques, each one acting outwardly as an agent of some political ideal, but privately as agents purely of themselves. Andross led such a clique, along with any number of other men and women who could have ended up becoming Androsses themselves if the situation had played out differently. Eventually, the violence of words grew into violence of deeds, and the number of assassinations in the system started to grow. The already-present divisions between individual planets started to grow into festering wounds, and with the leadership of Corneria as divided as it was, fractionation was inevitable.

What worried Krystal was that, as far as she could tell, nothing was really preventing it from happening all over again – nothing but hope. Would that really be enough?

“…Hey, Krystal – are you okay?”

She slipped out of her reverie and turned to face Slippy, whose worry pinpricked at her consciousness. Only now, his worry was turned outward towards her, rather than himself. She smiled at him, genuinely this time. “Yes, Slippy. I promise.” She glanced at the cerulean sphere looming low outside the shuttle’s window. “Just a little nervous, myself.”

Slippy laughed. He did it so rarely, and it was always a warm, welcome sound when she heard it. “What’s so funny?”, she asked a little mischievously.

“That _you’re_ nervous, and not me”, he answered. “I mean, I _am_ nervous. Too. Just… why are _you_ nervous?”

She paused, and realized she didn’t have a good answer. Not one that wouldn’t add more worries onto Slippy’s already too-large pile, anyway. “I don’t know”, she half-lied. “Lots of reasons.”

The frog’s face grew thoughtful. “…You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”, he asked with a sort of almost childlike innocence, eyes clear and open, smile earnest.

And in that moment, Krystal understood how Amanda had fallen in love with him. She was a lucky amphibian. “I do. And thank you.”

Slippy opened his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted by a voice coming over the intercom.

_“Attention, passengers. The shuttle will be departing soon. Please take your seats.”_

And the moment was gone, and Slippy’s nerves started firing on full-cylinder once more. But this time, it didn’t annoy Krystal nearly as much.

She gently gripped Slippy’s shoulder with her paw, stilling his ceaseless quaking. “I’ll be _fine_, Slippy”, she reassured him.

His hand twitched, and he tentatively laid it over Krystal’s own. “Y-yeah. I know. I-I’m just…”

She grinned. “I am too”, she admitted, finally realizing a big source of Slippy’s worries were the same as her own. She gave his shoulder a reaffirming squeeze. “We’ll always be partners, no matter what comes.”

The frog started to sob, just a little. And she held firm, trying and failing to stop herself from doing the same.

The shuttle turned towards the planet below, and as it dove through the atmosphere and towards the endless seas, Krystal felt at peace.

She wondered how long it would last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Onward to the titular planet itself! This is just the first half of what was going to be one chapter on my outline, but it goes as it goes. I figure the story is going to be as long as the story is long, and getting the stuff out as it's written is probably more important than worrying about keeping to a set number of chapters.
> 
> Thanks for all the kudos and comments, criticism welcome as always, and updates will be posted on Twitter! Have a happy Halloween.


	3. Chapter 3

# III

The shuttle broke through the innermost layer of the planet’s atmosphere, shedding its fine cocoon of oxidative flame – and as the last fiery scintillas dissipated into increasingly more infinitesimal sparks, the full breadth of the almost too-blue seas of Aquas became revealed to the craft’s passengers.

The watery world’s endless ocean stretched from horizon to horizon, the variation of its hues ranging from azure to indigo depending on the depth of the abyss below. When taken in combination with the cerulean skies, it was almost vertigo-inducing: endless blue in every direction. The only interruptions came in the form the orbital ring, hazy-yet-visible in the distance – and the little archipelagos dotting the surface, some of them natural, and most of them artificially terraformed.

But Fox knew there was far more to Aquas than just its surface. Though it was a densely-populated planet, most of its islands were uninhabited miniature Edens, with only a few of the larger landmasses set aside for sapient habitation (and most of that as vacation resorts). At first glance it was an insolvable oxymoron, but the vulpine knew better.

No – the real hustle and bustle of Aquas laid _there_, he thought as he caught a passing glance of a semi-opaque dome visible beneath the rippling tides, equally as hazy as the ring far above them. The vast majority of Aquas’ citizens dwelt in underwater conclaves: massive structures not dissimilar to space stations, many with entire cities inside, bobbing just beneath the water’s surface like glass eggs.

When the first settlers made planetfall on Aquas – way back in the first colonization wave, during the earliest era of space-travel in Lylat – they initially built their towns and cities on the small islands. It wasn’t long before the population exploded as a result of Aquas’ newfound success in the system’s economy, and a drastic need for new living space emerged. One daring scientist (though some referred to him as ‘mad’ just as often as they called him ‘brilliant’) proposed the idea of building underwater; and though he was rebuffed at first, his ideas were eventually taken for a test run when the then-rulers grew desperate enough to try anything to curb the housing crisis.

The rest was history – and now Aquas was equally well-known for its massive underwater megalopolises as it was the breathtaking beauty of its surface.

But their shuttle didn’t head towards one of the underwater cities (though Fox knew it was fully capable of doing so); instead, it swerved towards one of the larger islands in their vicinity, one that clearly played host to a large amount of people. There was no real estate on Aquas more prime than surface real estate – Fox didn’t even want to _think_ about how much it cost to actually live in one of Aquas’ few surface cities, considering the price of a simple vacation package.

There was only one explanation: Amanda’s family was loaded.

The shuttle slowed down as it approached a moderate-sized hangar at the island’s edge: one that was half-exposed, and half-underwater, presumably so it could house both aerial vehicles and submarines. As it began its final descent and made landfall, the pilot’s voice came over the loudspeakers.

“_Attention, passengers. We have arrived at our destination. Please exit the vehicle in an orderly fashion_.”

Said passengers were already up out of their seats and retrieving their luggage in a decidedly not-orderly fashion before the announcement was even over. Falco was one of them, though Fox waited for a few seconds before preparing to disembark himself. It probably didn’t make any difference, but he was always determined to be polite.

“You ready for this?”, Falco asked him as Fox stood up.

The vulpine shrugged. “As ready as I ever will be.” He reached for his carry-on bag and hefted it with a mild grunt – he should’ve packed less. “I haven’t seen Slippy’s parents _or_ Amanda in a while, and I’ve never met her family.”

“Neither have I”, the avian remarked as he grabbed his own bag and stood awkwardly at the edge of the aisle, waiting for the morass of passengers to give him an opening to start moving himself. “Must be filthy fucking rich to live in a place like this, though. Who knew Slippy was such a gold-digger?”

Fox laughed at the preposterous comment – it felt good to laugh without any reservations. “Make sure to say that to him in front of them. I’m sure it’ll endear him to the in-laws.”

Falco rolled his eyes and made his move, stepping deftly into the traffic exiting the shuttle, and Fox was hot on his heels. “Come _on_”, the bird said gruffly, clearly agitated by both the push and pull of the crowd and the fact that they were moving too slowly. Fox rolled his eyes jovially and kept marching right on behind him.

It wasn’t long after the duo left the shuttle and wandered out into the spacious hangar that they bumped into their teammates. Krystal gave them a soft wave, but Slippy only nodded before quickly turning away.

He didn’t turn fast enough for Fox to not notice his red eyes, though.

Krystal ran interference for the frog and approached them. “How was your leg of the journey?”

Falco tilted his head noncommittally, and Fox spoke up. “Unremarkable.” He flicked his ear towards Slippy. “…Is he okay?”

The vixen chewed on the corner of her lip, but ultimately nodded. “He will be.” As she turned to follow the amphibian out of the hangar and into the streets beyond, she spoke again. “You should talk with him though. Both of you.”

As Krystal jogged to catch up with Slippy, Fox turned to look at Falco questioningly, but the avian only shrugged at him in response. “Don’t look at me. I didn’t get that any more that you did.”

Fox lifted his paw to his chin and hummed in thought. “…I think he’s as upset about all of this as we are. But he also clearly wants to spend his life with Amanda.” He let it drop. “He’s probably really conflicted right now.”

Falco stared at him like he’d just floated down from outer space. “I can’t be on a team with _two_ telepathic canines, Fox. If you start speaking in psychobabble too, I’ll lose my fucking marbles.”

“Basic psychology is hardly the same as psychic powers, Falco.”

The avian made a dismissive noise. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Now come on.” He hoisted his bag up and jerked his head towards the exit. “Let’s get a move-on before we lose ‘em.”

Fox shook his head. “No, you go on. I’ll wait for Wolf and his team.”

Falco narrowed his eyes. “They know where the hotel is.”

The vulpine chuckled. “Yeah, but it’s still a bit rude to leave them behind.” He cocked his head towards the exit. “Go on! Trust me, I’ll be fine. We’ll catch up in a bit.”

The bird shrugged and tossed his small carry-on over his shoulder. “Fine. See you there, or whatever.” He gave a half-hearted wave as he turned and left the hangar, leaving Fox by himself.

Now alone (not counting the throngs of people flitting around the spacious complex), Fox took a deep breath and sighed. He languidly dragged his gaze along the extent of the hangar until he found a bench off to the side of the room, sitting beneath a wall plastered with posters and advertisements. His feet moved towards it of their own accord while his mind travelled elsewhere – and as he took a seat to wait, his stream of consciousness grew into just as much a distracted jumble of competing thoughts as the morass of fliers dangling above him, not a single one rising to the surface.

He was jolted out of his mind and back into reality by the arrival of another shuttle in the hangar, and it didn’t take too much logical deduction to guess who was onboard. His conjecture was proven right when the craft’s doors opened and he heard a particular voice ringing clarion over the buzz of the rest of the crowd.

“…_Of course, by the time I got into the Academy, my uncle was already back out of jail. Not Uncle Billy though, he was already out at this point – it was uncle Joe! We had a big party right away, but then he got caught selling someone drugs the next day and got arrested again_…”

Fox cringed in sympathy for the poor soul who’d probably had to endure Fay’s sordid family tales for the duration of the flight – but at the same time, he smiled at her voice, because he knew what it brought along with it. He supposed the cringe/smile combo came out as a disturbing grimace, which was probably why the feline who just walked by him stared at him for a split-second before turning away.

There was Fay, haranguing what looked to be an elderly toucan whose eyes spoke of someone who’s seen too much; and there were Wolf and Panther behind her in the crowd, the former looking distinctly pissed-off (probably at the close proximity with all the passengers, Fox guessed – he and Falco were similar in that way), and the latter looking for all the world as if he was on top of things and in his proper element.

The lupine attempted to shoot Fox a smile when he saw him; but combined with his obvious distaste for being shoved around in a crowd of vacationers, it came out as a grimace to match Fox’s own. Fox wondered what people might think about two canines grimacing at each other in a hangar, and it made him laugh a bit, mercifully restoring his expression into a proper smile.

No such luck for Wolf though – no, his discomfort stayed well put on his face as he approached Fox and gave him a slap on the back. “Please tell me there won’t be as many people at the hotel.”

Fox laid his own paw on Fox’s shoulder, letting it linger _just_ long enough to possibly count as a PDA, but not one that would draw attention. “No”, he answered – and just as the lupine looked like he might relax, he added “there’ll probably me more.”

“Goddamn it”, Wolf all but snarled. He turned an appraising glare to Fox, one that hinged on predatory. “You phrased it like that on purpose”, he accused.

Fox didn’t do anything to defend himself, opting instead to affect an innocent shrug. “You shouldn’t make it so easy for me to set you up.”

This time Wolf’s look actually _was_ predatory, and his bared teeth wavered between a grin and a snarl. “Careful, Fox. You don’t want to make me _punish _you, do you?”

The vulpine felt his ears heat up, but before the situation could escalate, Panther interrupted with a loud clearing of this throat. Wolf looked pissed, but Fox was glad for the display; it wasn’t exactly a secret in the public eye that he and Wolf were involved anymore, but there was a time and place for everything – and standing in the middle of a crowded hangar in the biggest tourist spot in Lylat was decidedly not that time and place.

“I take it the rest of your team absconded?”, Panther asked Fox politely, to which he smiled in response.

“They were eager to get out of here, yeah.” Fox eyed the trio. “Ready to join them? We should probably check in sooner rather than later.”

Fay was practically bouncing on her toes. “Yes!”, she answered emphatically.

Fox looked to her teammates, and that answer seemed good enough for all of them. “Alright”, he said. “Let’s get moving, then.”

……….

Wolf was thankful they were on-foot instead of in a speeder.

The streets of the resort town were unreasonably narrow due to the lack of space – they were the most congested thoroughfares he’d ever had the misfortune of witnessing.

Thankfully he was doing said witnessing as a bystander to the carnage rather than a participant, though the sidewalks weren’t much better. Aquas’ land-space was such a premium that all the buildings were maximized to the absolute limit; and since the streets needed to be at least two lanes, it meant the sidewalks were ridiculously narrow.

The good news was that he did not give a single fuck about crowd etiquette. He cut an intimidating figure and was well aware of it, and the few animals who _didn’t_ draw away on sight and give him space were easily moved aside with an aggressive shove of his shoulder.

“I see you’re trying to endear yourself to the locals”, Panther said curtly as he deftly maneuvered his way through the crowd without bumping up against a single person, even while carrying luggage. _Damn feline agility_, Wolf thought.

“It’s not _my_ fault there’re so many of them”, the lupine responded.

Fox had the gall to scoff at that, and Wolf only dignified the dismissive sound with a leering side-eye. The vulpine raised a brow in challenge and Wolf gritted his teeth.

The walkway only became more entangled as it went on and they passed through what appeared to be the city square. The need for street space apparently won out here, as the sidewalks turned into stairways that led into a series of raised platforms elevated above the street, connecting the upper levels of the various buildings like a twisted, abstract art piece. Wolf’s nose was assaulted by the clashing scents of a hundred different food carts, and his ears by the haggling of overpriced gift shop goods and honking horns from the hovercrafts below him.

Fox intentionally bumped into him a bit, trying to get his attention. “I take it you’re not a ‘vacation’ type of guy, are you?”, he asked. His voice was hardly quiet, but it barely raised above the din.

Wolf frowned as the pair continued to walk side-by-side, Panther and Fay trailing a few steps behind them. “I’m very much a ‘vacation type of guy’ – just not for places like this.”

“Fair”, his partner responded with a nod. He went silent for a bit as they passed through colorful booths carrying colorful goods, manned by colorful salespeople. “What _is_ your preferred type of vacation spot, then?”

Wolf chewed on the inside of his mouth as he thought the question over. “Somewhere less loud. Less crowded. Off the beaten path, maybe.”

The pair let the topic fade as they descended from the raised marketplace and back into the thick of it. They didn’t have to walk for much longer before they came across an open, gilded gate set into a slightly too-bright, teal-painted brick wall inlaid with seashells. On the other side of the gate was a spacious courtyard filled with tropical plants, leading to an equally obnoxiously teal villa done up in a pseudo-modern style.

Wolf instantly knew it was the place. It was too tacky for it _not_ to be.

Fox stopped in front of the hotel complex, confirming his conviction. “I think this is it. I guess we can just walk in?”, he asked no one in particular.

Wolf took a look at the open gate, taking it for permission. If they weren’t allowed to waltz right on in, then too bad – they shouldn’t leave the front door open. “Yeah, let’s get our rooms anyway. I’m tired of lugging this shit around.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have packed so much, then”, Panther said under his breath. Wolf glared at him – they both knew full well that Wolf had barely packed anything. He barely _owned_ anything.

“I hope they have beds”, Fay said seriously, apparently under the impression that there existed hotels without beds somewhere in the wide universe.

The quartet walked up the length of the brick pathway to the hotel’s entrance, past fountains and benches set alongside groves of trees bearing sweet-smelling fruits. The front doors to the villa were wide open, leading to a spacious (and thankfully less teal) lobby. Canned-sounding Aquasian bossa nova music played from the loudspeakers set into the ceiling, making Wolf feel like he was standing inside of either a very large elevator or a very cheap porno.

As they finished signing in at the front desk, a familiar voice spoke up.

“_There_ you guys are”, Krystal called out as she approached their group from across the lobby. “We were beginning to think you’d never show.”

“I was tempted”, Wolf said, earning a light shove from Fox and a tittering laugh from Krystal.

“Where are Falco and Slippy?”, Fox asked.

Krystal smiled. “Already in their rooms – they should be back down shortly. Slippy’s parents are already here, and Amanda and her family are on the way.”

Fox nodded, but Wolf frowned. “What’s the hold-up?”

The vixen shrugged. “I’m not sure. Amanda told Slippy her father had something important come up that he had to deal with.” She smiled a little mischievously. “Apparently, he owns this place.”

Fox let out a low whistle. “He’s in the hotel business, then?”

“I’m not sure”, Krystal responded. “I don’t think so, though. Not based off what Slippy’s told me, anyway – I can’t imagine a hotelier would be so involved with environmental protection.”

“One can never be sure”, Panther put in. “Perhaps he’s a renaissance man.”

“Perhaps”, Krystal conceded.

Wolf glanced at a clock hanging on a nearby wall. “Shit, it’s afternoon already. I’m taking this crap upstairs.” He lifted his carry-on for emphasis. “Fox, you want to come with?”

Fox tilted his head in confusion. “Oh, sure.”

……….

As Krystal and Panther struck up a semi-serious conversation about what Amanda’s father really did for work (with interesting contributions from Fay), the canines left for their rooms. The whole complex was only three stories tall, and Fox looked down at his room pass to see he’d be somewhere in the middle of the second. Wolf’s must’ve been nearby, as he walked most of the length alongside him.

“I’m in room 212 – what about you?”

Wolf looked at him like he was daft. “What room do you _think_ I’m in?”, he asked.

Fox frowned. “I don’t know. That’s why I asked.”

The lupine chuckled, the visible edges of his teeth glinting. “I’m in room 212.”

Fox tripped over himself for a split second before quickly recuperating and continuing to walk forward. In retrospect, it was painfully obvious – why _wouldn’t_ they be sharing a room? “I guess Amanda’s parents know about us, then. Seeing as they set up the rooms for everyone.”

“Is there a reason they wouldn’t?”, Wolf asked quietly.

“No”, Fox said quickly. “I’m just… still not used to it. People knowing about us.”

Wolf stayed silent for the duration of their journey to the hotel room. Wolf stopped outside their shared door without going in, and Fox wondered if he’d said something wrong.

“Wolf…”, he started. “You know I… you know. _Love_ you, right?”

The lupine looked like he was startled out of a wayward thought, and eyed Fox carefully for what had to have only been a few seconds, but which felt like a few minutes. His nonplussed expression slowly but surely morphed into one of sardonic glee. “I had my suspicions.”

Fox groaned, and Wolf laughed again. The vulpine jumped a bit in surprise when he felt Wolf’s paw grab him at the hip. The taller man’s muzzle leaned into his ear and spoke softly. “If it helps you out, I think I might love you too.”

Fox shakily laid a paw against Wolf’s chest, feeling the hard warmth through the lupine’s jacket. “You _think_ you might?”, he said, somewhere between worried and playful.

“Yeah.” The word was spoken somewhere between a whisper and a kiss, as Wolf’s lips brushed against Fox’s inner ear, setting the vulpine to quivering. “I think I might. Need a bit more convincing, first.”

“Now you’re just being a dick”, Fox mouthed off.

He felt Wolf’s laugh like a rumble through his body as the lupine’s paw lowered tantalizingly down the length of his hip, dipping just _slightly_ into the hem of his pants, and –

A loud, conspicuous throat-clearing from somewhere outside their little world.

Fox looked up to see Falco and Slippy standing a few feet away, the former attempting to not start cracking up, and the latter still looking seasick as he did earlier in the morning. Fox sighed in embarrassment, while Wolf just looked pissed at being blue-balled.

Falco was visibly fighting back the urge to laugh. “Geez, Fox. Never took you for being into public shit.”

“You’re about to be in some public shit yourself if you don’t wipe that grin off your face”, Wolf growled. And that was the last thing to set the avian over the edge and start losing it.

“Umm, Fox”, Slippy spoke up, clearly trying to change the subject. “My parents are down in the lobby. And I-I think Amanda’s here too. She just commed me to say she was on her way.”

Fox, now fully disentangled from Wolf, put back on the airs of a proper captain and nodded at his teammate. “Alright – I’ll be down as soon as I stick my bag in my room.”

Falco’s face twisted into a rictus of barely-contained mirth. “You mean you’ll be down as soon as you stick your –”

Slippy elbowed him in the side, interrupting his joke. This time Fox laughed – he wasn’t used to seeing the amphibian take charge. “We’ll see you there.”

“Got it”, Fox said with a nod. As his teammates walked down the hall, Falco still chuckling, he turned to Wolf. “That’s what you get for trying to stick your paw down my pants in public, you know.”

Wolf growled. “Can it, McCloud.”

Fox chuckled as he swiped his cardkey and the canines stowed their luggage away. Though, for now, the luggage was the only thing being stuck anywhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And one planned chapter becomes three.
> 
> As always, thanks for kudos and comments, criticism welcome.


	4. Chapter 4

# IV

“_Well, the acquisitions work remains solid, if nothing else_.”

The loud voice echoing from down the hallway and out of sight was unfamiliar to Fox – but whoever the speaker was, he had a good handle on projection. His voice overpowered the quieter-by-comparison conversations of Fox’s teammates and friends.

“_We’ll begin laying the groundwork for construction in the southern sea as soon as the ratification goes through – or ‘water-work’, that is!_” The speaker laughed loudly at his own joke.

As Fox and Wolf cleared the corner and re-entered the hotel lobby, the vulpine laid eyes on a pompous-looking frog who could only be Amanda’s father, still laughing. Krystal was apparently on the receiving end of the amphibian’s conversation – she gave Fox a barely-subtle expression that could only be read as ‘please help me’.

Or perhaps ‘please kill me’.

Fox decided to have mercy and walked over to insert himself in the social gathering taking place in the spacious room – Amanda was already all over Slippy, towering over the diminutive toad while conversing with his parents (Fox noticed Slippy’s father looked every bit as queasy as his son).

The vulpine didn’t have to work hard to come to Krystal’s aid. As soon as he approached, Amanda’s father whirled around to face him with a smile. “Fox McCloud!”, he all-but shouted. “So good to finally meet you. Warwick Granota”. He extended his hand, and Fox grasped and shook it with a polite smile.

“Likewise.” Fox couldn’t help but notice the frog’s skin was the exact shade of teal as the building.

“I’d like to pick your brain on something, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Oh?” Fox cocked his head to the side – he could see Krystal giving him a small shake of her own in warning.

“Yes. You see, my company is in the planning phase for construction of a new line of luxury condominiums aimed at young professionals – underwater, of course – and I want to gain a solid understanding of just what the upper crust of the youth wants in their housing.” The frog smiled widely – his teeth were so white they looked like they were molded from plasteel.

Fox was caught flat-footed and took a moment to formulate a response – but before he could say anything, Wolf spoke up.

“All you really need is a toilet.”

Warwick’s brow rose in surprise. “Truly?”

“Yeah”, Wolf continued without missing a beat, the cunning in his eye incongruous with the smile on his muzzle. “Got a place to sit and a place to shit, all in one.”

Krystal sighed and rolled her eyes, but Granota only hummed in thought.

Fox cleared his throat. “What Wolf _means_ to say, Mr. Granota, is that –”

“No, no – no need to explain”, the amphibian interrupted. “The spartan stylings of an ascetic have a certain meditative charm about them.” He nodded sagely at Wolf. “I’ll take your words into account.”

Wolf looked unsettled by the fact his snark ended up taken at face value, and nodded a little awkwardly in turn. “…Yeah.”

“Daddy!”, a high-pitched voice rang out. “I told you before we got here: no business talk at the wedding!”

Warwick looked put-out. “But sweetie…”

“No buts.” Amanda extricated herself from the Toads and approached Fox with arms held wide open for a hug. Fox braced himself – to little effect, as Amanda lifted him a few inches off the ground in a vice grip.

“Good to see you again, Foxy.”

“_You too… Amanda…_”, Fox grunted out, struggling to breathe. The fuchsia toad put him back down with a giggle.

“It’s been so long”, she said, smiling so hard her eyes crinkled. Fox always found her happiness infectious – it must have been, in order to break Slippy’s protective shell so effectively. She turned to set those smiling eyes on Wolf. “And I don’t think I’ve ever formally met you.”

“Wolf O’Donnell”, the lupine responded politely enough; though he didn’t extend his paw for a shake, to Fox’s annoyance.

Amanda didn’t look phased though, and nodded at him. “You’ve saved my fiancé a few times now.” She grabbed one of her hands with the other, perhaps in lieu of one of Wolf’s. “I can’t thank you enough.”

For the second time in under a minute, Wolf was taken aback, and he looked just as unsure how to respond to this little bombshell as he had the elder Granota’s.

Fox spoke up for him when it became apparent Wolf wasn’t going to. “Your thanks are appreciated, Amanda – but not necessary.” The vulpine’s boy-scout smile was genuine. “Saving lives is just what we do.” He ignored the faint sound of Panther chuckling sardonically at his comment. “And I promise Slippy’s covered us just as much as we have him.”

Amanda seemed pleased with this response. “I know he has.” She turned to look fondly at the green amphibian as he conversed with his parents and Amanda’s mom (who was an even brighter shade of pink than her daughter). Slippy was sweating bullets and visibly stuttering. “Isn’t he sweet?”, Amanda asked no one in particular.

“I don’t know”, Fay answered Amanda’s rhetorical question. “I’ve never licked him before. My parents taught me not to lick toads because they might be poisonous.”

Fox cringed at the comment, and Wolf threw his head back and barked out a laugh. Amanda looked confused, but before she could ask for clarification, Slippy’s family was alerted to Fox’s presence by Wolf’s outburst.

Slippy’s father was the first to approach, seasick smile quavering on his face. “Fox, it’s good to see you again.”

The vulpine repeated the pleasantries he’d just exchanged with Amanda’s father, used to this sort of meet-and-greet stuff after so many years of frequenting government galas. “You as well, Mr. Toad.”

The green frog was equally as short as his son, differentiable from him only though his sporting a paper-thin mustache. He shook his head dismissively. “Please, call me Beltino. I’m not in the Navy anymore – first-name basis is fine.”

Fox smiled. “Of course, Mr. T – _Beltino_”, he caught himself. He knew the Toad patriarch had retired from his position as research director for the Cornerian Navy shortly after the Anglar Blitz, but he wasn’t quite sure what the brilliant frog was up to these days – he’d have to ask Slippy.

“Fox”, Slippy’s mom – Grenda – spoke up. She looked eerily like her husband (and Slippy, by proxy), though she wore crimson lipstick and had a shock of curly gray hair extending out from her head like a halo. Anurans grew hair as they aged into senior adulthood: the women from their head, and the men on their faces

He wondered when Slippy would start to grow a mustache.

Distracted by the disturbing thought of his teammate with a beard, he had to snap himself into responding. “Mrs. Toad – it’s good to see you again too.” His attempt to initiate a handshake morphed into an awkward half-hug as Mrs. Toad attempted and failed to get her arms around his body. He could see Wolf’s amused expression from the corner of his eye.

“So, how’re things going with, uh… the team?”, Beltino asked somewhat tentatively. Fox knew the hesitance in his tone had to do with Slippy’s imminent departure.

“Things are going fine”, Fox responded. “But we’ll miss Slippy. I can promise you that.”

“Y-yeah”, the elder Toad stuttered. “We’ll, uh… we’ll miss Slippy too…” The frog’s lips started to quaver, and for a split-second Fox was terrified he’d have to work him down from a crying fit – but Wolf intervened.

“And what’re _you_ up to, old man?” The question was so gruff, so _rude_, that it jolted Beltino from his imminent breakdown. Fox internally let out a sigh of relief. Wolf had to have known his word would have that effect.

“Well”, Beltino spoke up, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I’m actually helping Mr. Granota design his new underwater city. We – and by ‘we’, I mean myself along with many of my colleagues – believe there’s a strong chance the logic behind Aquas’ living spaces could be translated fairly easily into building space stations designed for permanent, comfortable habitation, which would go a long way to…”

Fox let his mind wander as Beltino launched into his longwinded explanation, distracted by watching the rest of his teammates and friends talk with the assembled amphibians. Krystal and Amanda sharing a laugh over a reminisced moment, Falco slapping Slippy on the back a little too hard, Fay smiling blankly as Amanda’s father blabbered on, Panther saying something that made Amanda’s mother chuckle. He was suddenly struck by how close they’d all become over the last few months, his team and Wolf’s.

Beltino must have finished, because Grenda was speaking again. “…We’ll be going to dinner with the Granotas tonight, I think. Just the six of us. You know: a family thing.”

Fox regathered himself and nodded as if he’d been listening the whole time. He guessed the last bit was probably the only pertinent part anyway. “Sounds like a good time.”

“You won’t be too bored? Or put-out?”, Beltino asked cautiously. “We don’t want to bring all of you here so early and then leave you out to dry.”

Fox chuckled, looking at his friends – glancing at Wolf. “We’re in a fancy hotel in the middle of an upscale town on Lylat’s most popular vacation planet”, he answered with a cocksure smile. “I’m sure we’ll find _something_ to occupy ourselves.”

……….

When Fox had made that pronouncement three hours ago, this wasn’t how he imagined it would go. Perhaps his fate had been sealed the moment they decided to split up into small groups and wander the town at their leisure.

He and Wolf were together, naturally, and had a decent time walking the crowded streets, listening to his lupine partner make too-cruel comments about tourists (but still laughing at them anyway), snagging an unhealthy-yet-tasty lunch from a questionably-clean food cart at Wolf’s insistence.

Panther and Krystal paired up to head to a local museum, drawing an arched eyebrow from Fox, and a mouthed ‘what?’ from the vixen in response. He didn’t think there was a chance of anything developing from that particular pairing, but he could hardly begrudge her the attempt – if it even was one, that was. He could tell Krystal was finally starting to recover from the aftermath of their break-up. It was good for her to get out and spend some time with another male, even if Fox thought they’d make a terrible match.

That left Falco and Fay to their own devices: a pairing for which no such potentially ambiguous romantic potential existed. The avian lamented privately to Fox about being saddled with ‘babysitting duty’, and for the life of him Fox couldn’t disprove that babysitting duty was exactly what he was in charge of.

A duty which he’d failed, spectacularly, leading Fox to his current situation of watching an illicit fish race while Wolf tried to smooth-talk the bookie into handing back Falco’s credits, which he’d gambled away trying to win back Fay’s credits, which she’d gambled away on a one-finned, half-blind fish that died in the middle of the race.

“I’m telling ya”, the walrus bookie said emphatically. “We don’t do take-backs! Says so right there on the sign.” He gestured to a board covered with rules scribbled in permanent marker.

“And I’m telling _you_”, Wolf spat back, pointing his finger right up to the edge of the bookie’s personal space, “that if you don’t hand them back, you’re going to be real fucking sorry.”

Fox tried to hide his discomfort at Wolf’s violent tone, focusing instead on the hypnotic loop of fish swimming around the underwater race track as the other onlookers cheered. It was a mixed crowd: grungy locals having their fun, obviously wealthy vacationers slumming it up for a night, shady-looking animals on the fringe who spoke in hushed tones with some of the patrons and handing them packages which were obviously full of drugs. Fox coughed as a billow of cigarette smoke wafted his way, catching the dim light of the musky establishment in its particles.

Wolf’s occasional smoking was the second-most annoying thing he did, Fox thought – right after what he was doing right now. The sound of his argument with the bookie persisted, drowned out as it was by the crowd. Wolf had forewarned him that he was going to have to ‘get tough’ with the walrus, but Fox hadn’t fully understood what that entailed. Sometimes he forgot Wolf used to be the head of a renowned criminal syndicate.

“So here’s how this is going to work”, he heard the lupine say clear and low from the counter, seeing him exaggeratedly patting the part of his belt Fox knew housed a blaster. “You’re going to give me at least some of the money, or this might get a bit messy.”

He thought Wolf probably forgot sometimes himself.

“You okay there, Fox?” Falco’s comment cut through the din.

Fox nodded, unsettled but unwilling to show it. “Yeah. Peachy.”

The avian chuckled in response.

“Alright”, Wolf said, returned from his ‘negotiations’ with the bookie. “I got _half_ your credits back. That’s all you’re getting without me starting a gunfight.” He tossed Falco a small bag containing his money.

“That won’t be necessary”, Fox answered for Falco without waiting for the bird to respond himself.

“What about _my_ money?”, Fay whined.

Wolf made a dismissive sound. “You deserve to lose your money for betting it on a dead fish.”

Fay put her paws on her hips and pouted. “It wasn’t dead when I _bet_ on it.”

The lupine laughed at that and made his way to the exit, the rest of them moving to follow him a few seconds later.

The sun had already set by the time they left.

“Dammit”, Wolf said under his breath, targeted more so at Fox than the others as Falco and Fay got into a chattering argument about whether or not he should give her some of the credits Wolf bargained back.

“What’s wrong?”, Fox asked.

He shrugged. “I was hoping to walk on the beach with you at sunset.”

Fox felt his heart make a little looping maneuver in his chest, his former misgivings dissipated. “Why Wolf”, he said with a grin equal parts loving and taunting. “That’s positively sweet.”

The lupine grumbled and side-eyed him, but refused to respond. If he didn’t know any better, Fox thought he might have actually been _flustered_.

“You know”, Fox said with a slight bump of his shoulder against Wolf’s side. “Walking along the beach at night would be just as romantic as sunset. Maybe even a little more, since we’ll have more privacy.”

Wolf hummed in thought – a deep, resonating sound – and reciprocated Fox’s shoulder-bump with more force than necessary, causing Fox to stagger. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”, he asked teasingly.

“Well yeah”, Fox responded without missing a beat. “I’m the one who just suggested it.”

Wolf let out a low laugh, then looked back at their comrades. “Hey!”, he shouted, interrupting their argument (which had somehow morphed from credits to arguing whether or not it was possible to breathe in space). “Fox and I are going to go back to doing whatever. You guys promise to stay out of trouble this time?”

“Yessir, cap’n!”, Fay shouted back with a salute.

Falco just took a deep breath and sighed. “We’ll try, I guess. Or whatever.”

“Good”, Wolf cut back before throwing an arm around Fox’s shoulder and drawing him right up next to him. “Now let’s go take that walk.”

……….

Aquas’ oceans were bright, even at night.

The planet’s seas played host to a dizzying array of bioluminescent algal lifeforms of different colors, making it look like there were little jewels of light drifting beneath the waves’ surface. That, together with the moonlight reflecting on the water, made the whole bulk of Aquas’ ocean look like a mist of light and color that contrasted with the darkness of the clear sky above.

Fox and Wolf weren’t the only couple taking advantage of the scenery, but it was definitely a small-enough retinue of people to feel intimate. The lupine’s larger, coarser paw held in Fox’s own was starting to feel like home to him.

It made his discomfort over Wolf’s aggression back in the gambling ring even more confusing.

“You’re thinking again”, Wolf said quietly without looking over.

Fox chuckled and shook his head. “I’m never _not_ thinking, Wolf.”

This time the lupine turned to stare at him, an unplaceable expression writ large on his face. “So _that’s _why you’re such a weirdo”, he finally responded in a deadpan tone.

Fox laughed again, and this time he dragged Wolf closer, the lupine’s bare feet stumbling in the sand. “You don’t get to call me a weirdo after threatening a bookie.”

Wolf looked at him dismissively and shook his head with a smile. “Oh, who cares. He was a real dick and I was a real dick back. Got their money back, didn’t I? Or some of it, anyway.” Fox stayed silent, and Wolf frowned. “Hey, is this really about me laying into some piece of shit gambling ring owner?”

The vulpine tried to resist grimacing, but couldn’t fully commit. “Sort of?” He sighed, struggling to voice his thoughts. “I mean, don’t you think you went a little… too far?”

Wolf looked like he was about to go on the defensive, but stopped himself before he could say anything. He remained silent for a few moments, and Fox knew he was thinking.

“…Maybe”, he finally said with a shrug. “Look, Fox – and I mean this in the best possible way – you don’t know how the criminal world works.” He turned his head to make sure Fox was watching him before continuing. “You don’t get anywhere by being nice. You get where you want to go by fighting for it, or at least making it _look_ like you’re fighting for it.” He sighed. “It’s a lot of posturing. A lot of pretending. He threatened to have his guys beat me up and I one-upped him by pointing out I had a gun, but neither of us were actually going to _do_ anything. When you work in that world, 90% of the shit you do is for show.”

“But what if he _hadn’t_ been threatening you as a pretense?”, Fox countered. “What if he really had his guys move to attack, and you really had to shoot your way out? On a developed and actually-policed planet, mind you, not some lawless place like Titania or Fichina.”

“And that’s exactly _why_ I knew he was bluffing, and he knew I was bluffing.” He stopped in his tracks, and Fox stopped along with him. “I can’t explain it to you, pup. It’s something you have to live to understand.”

Half of Wolf’s face was bathed in the light from the sea to his side, small points of teal and cyan reflected in the violet of his eye. The other half was limned in shadow, his implant a jagged and unnatural testament to a past of violence and desperation. Fox couldn’t stop himself from cupping the dark side with his paw.

“You’re so beautiful”, he said mindlessly, unbidden. He only realized how dumb it sounded after the words came out.

To his credit, Wolf didn’t respond with sarcasm, instead laying his own paw over the wrist of the one stroking his face. “You’re one to speak, Fox”, he said quietly, barely audible over the metronome of the tide.

The lupine leaned in for a kiss, a surprisingly chaste one, and Fox met it in kind.

The lights of the sea danced over them, and Fox knew everything was going to be alright.

……….

Quarren cracked his back and let out a sigh of relief. The old dog had been tending this stretch of beach for the last forty years; and even if his occupation only earned him a meager income, it was all made worthwhile by the invigorating smell of salt and the dazzling prism of the nighttime sea.

And cleaning this beach on the nightshift was an easy job, to boot – it was a quiet place, pretty much exclusively frequented by mooning lovers. Quarren liked to make up stories about them as he passed them by like a ghost, unnoticed as so many low-level workers are. That middle-aged pair of parrots over there were here after recommitting their vows. That moose and his equine partner giggling at a joke were childhood sweethearts. Those canine men staring into each other’s eyes and moving in for a tender kiss were enemies on the battlefield who betrayed both of their sides to live with each other.

He often wondered how close to the truth, if at all, his stories were.

As the hours passed, the couples started to dwindle away, leaving Quarren all to his lonesome – nothing but him, the sand, and the sea.

He missed the days when his wife would come out here with him, to this very beach. When she passed, he spread her ashes right over there, where the shore arched in on itself.

His nightly vigil soon complete, he tottered his way back to the shack by the dock to clock out, looking forward to a misty day of sleep ahead.

But something was out-of-place.

There, just across from the shack where the beach’s caretakers worked from, there was a light coming from the window of that building. But that was wrong: the old surf store closed down decades ago, back when Quarren was just starting out. No one had bought the building because it had lingered, forgotten for so long.

Curious, Quarren approached, wondering if a homeless person was staying there. If that was the case, he wouldn’t begrudge them – more than a few destitute people had found their way into Quarren’s shack over the years, and he’d given every one of them shelter. Perhaps he’d even invite the poor fellow to stay with him, and not in this sad old surf shop by themselves.

But as he quietly opened the door to the shop and looked around, he knew something was wrong. The stock shelves and counters were still there, covered in a fine dusting of sand, but no one was to be found. He could hear voices coming from the backroom though – deep, dark voices. They sent a chill down his spine.

Knowing he should leave, but unwilling to let the mystery slide, he tip-toed to the door and peeked inside.

“…-arations are almost complete. It won’t be much longer now. The new era is fast approaching”, said a positively broken voice that sounded of sea rocks grinding against each other. But Quarren could only see the back of the speaker, hunched over and balancing with the use of a cane as he was. The old dog’s brow rose in surprise as he noticed there was a handful of shark-men in the room with him – in all his years, he’d never seen aliens from outside of Lylat in person before.

But perhaps just as shockingly, they were holding guns. Large ones. The kinds they used in war.

“_But not fast enough_.”

If the hunched-over man’s voice sounded bad, then this one sounded like death. It was barely even a voice, Quarren thought – it sounded like if someone took a voice, broke it apart and put it back together again. He’d never heard such a horrifying voice in his life.

He only realized it then. It had been so long, he’d forgotten what it felt like.

Quarren was afraid.

“No, Padre”, the hunched man responded with what might have been humor. “It is never fast enough.”

The second voice laughed, and Quarren almost gasped at the sound of it. It was a positively inhuman sound.

“_Everything seems to be going fine, then. Proceed as planned_”, that horrible voice continued.

“Of course, my lord”, the hunched man said respectfully.

“_Oh, and Baloz – one more thing_”, the voice added. “_There’s a scruffy old terrier eavesdropping right outside your door_.”

Quarren felt his heart stop.

The hunched man turned to look at the door, and made eye contact with him. It was an Anglar, and a positively mangled one at that. Half his face looked like it was burned off. “So I see”, the Anglar spoke, continuing to stare into Quarren’s eyes, gaze full of a cold sort of malice. “What shall we do with him?”

“_Bring him in. I want to look at him more closely_.”

Quarren quivered as two of the large shark-men walked out of the room and grabbed him by the arms before flinging him down. He looked up to find himself staring at a monitor.

It wasn’t the monitor that scared Quarren.

It was the _thing_ that was on it.

It laughed, and Quarren’s teeth started chattering in response. The way its mouth moved was just _wrong_.

“_I thought curiosity was supposed to kill the cat, but I suppose dogs are just as prone to stupidity. Good on you for challenging stereotypes_.”

“What shall we do with him, Padre?”, the Anglar asked – and now, from this angle, Quarren could see the absolute devotion the fish held for the thing on the monitor. He could see it in his eyes.

The thing shrugged, and Quarren felt his stomach revolting at the sight.

“_Kill him_.”

One of the shark-men stalked calmly towards him, drawing a large knife from a sheath on his thigh. Before Quarren could register the thought that he was about to die, he felt a sharp, biting pain across his neck and fell over.

He tried to think about good things as he watched his life flow away in a puddle, the Anglar and the thing on the monitor continuing to talk normally as if nothing had happened.

The lights of the room reflecting on the blood looked so much like the algal lights of the sea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that took longer than expected. As I've mentioned in the past, my life has gotten quite a bit busier lately, so it's difficult to find free days to sit down and actually write one of these out! It's the good kind of busy and I'm ultimately doing this for fun though, so I can hardly complain.
> 
> Thanks for kudos and comments as always, and criticism is welcome!


	5. Chapter 5

# V

Krystal listlessly shuffled the seaweed-and-roe salad around her plate, only realizing Amanda must have said something when the frog politely cleared her throat and caught her attention.

“Oh”, the vixen responded with surprise and embarrassment. “I’m sorry – could you please repeat what you just said? I’m afraid I wasn’t listening.”

Amanda met that with a tittering laugh. “Now _that’s_ a twist. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this distracted before.” Krystal was thankful the fuchsia toad didn’t look off-put by her frankly rude behavior. “What’s got you so out of your usual swing of things?”

The morning sun glistening through the hotel’s dining veranda caught in Krystal’s eye, and she readjusted herself in her seat to escape the glare. “A few things, in fact. None of which I’m going to worry you with so close to your big day.” Krystal’s smile was feeble but genuine – the last thing Amanda needed was for an acquaintance to unload on her.

And Amanda _was_ just an acquaintance, for now – something Krystal was trying to rectify with this breakfast, in fact. Slippy had met Amanda during Krystal’s short spell away from the team in the months before the Blitz, when she took a break to try and establish an identity for herself outside of Star Fox (and failed). She didn’t get a chance to meet Amanda until the two amphibians were engaged; and since then, all of the two women’s time together had been spent as part of a larger group, never giving them a chance to develop any kind of individual friendship of their own.

“Girl”, Amanda said with a devilish grin. “I _live_ for people unloading.” She propped her arms on the table and laid her head in her hands, watching Krystal like a small child watches someone tell a story. “_Spill_.”

Krystal chuckled. Amanda had a winning personality – that much couldn’t be denied. Krystal could sense her interest was legitimate, if perhaps rooted somewhat in a desire for hearing juicy gossip. “Well, alright”, the vixen acquiesced, indulging both her need to vent and Amanda’s need to obsess over some venting. “I suppose the biggest problem is that I don’t know what to do with my life.”

“How so?”, the toad asked with a tilt of her head.

“Well”, Krystal said, taking a sip of iced tea. “I can’t do the mercenary thing forever – but I also don’t know what else to do outside of it, or what I even _can_ do.”

Amanda waited for a moment to see if there was more, then responded. “Aren’t you psychic? You could do, like… _so many things_ with that.” She stared off into space for a second. “Oh my God, the things I would do if I could read peoples’ minds…”

Krystal snorted out a very unladylike laugh. “Trust me, you do _not_ want that ability. All I can truly sense are peoples’ emotions, and even _that_ is too much sometimes.” She shot Amanda a chagrined smile. “Do you know how many men think about sex in my direction when they see me?”

Amanda gasped and covered her mouth with her hands, a sympathetic smile creeping out from behind them. “Oh my God, that’s _terrible!_ But also kind of flattering.”

The vixen dipped her head with a somewhat self-conscious smile and took another sip. “It is – both of those. They can’t help it, mind, and they’re not doing it consciously or intentionally.” She put the glass down. “They think about sex on a low mental level constantly – every day of my life is spent surrounded by psychic penises.”

Amanda covered her face with her hands this time, unable to hide the laughter peeking from behind them. “_Oh my God_.” She let them fall, revealing the mischievous expression behind them. “How do you not, just… laugh, all of the time?”

“Practice”, Krystal responded instantly.

“Didn’t you go on a date with Panther yesterday?”

Krystal wasn’t sure how to answer, as she wasn’t sure what the answer even was. She’d spent the day with Panther with the _intent_ of it possibly being a date – he was a handsome and courteous man, and was _incredibly_ attracted to her, which she found attractive in turn – but by the end of their outing…

“I don’t know”, she said with a shake of her head. “I don’t think there’s the potential for anything there outside of base physical attraction. We’re just not compatible.”

Amanda tapped her cheek a few times before cracking a positively wicked grin. “But you could be compatible _physically?_”

Krystal batted her paw dismissively at the toad, earning a laugh in response, before taking another (much longer) swig of her drink, willing the blush in her ears to dissipate.

A month ago, she was killing herself inside over losing the only true love in her life and having to watch him spend his days with another in close proximity, sensing their intimacy and infatuation and deep romantic attraction to each other at every waking moment.

Now she was joking about casual sex with an acquaintance without any fear or anger or loss permeating her consciousness.

No, that was wrong.

She was joking with a _friend_.

This newfound realization was somewhat derailed when she felt a bout of nervous, excited energy coming from the general direction of the hotel lobby. “Oh”, she said softly. “I think some more of the guests have arrived.”

Amanda clapped her hands together. “_Yes!_ I hope it’s my cousins.”

Krystal smiled – but in truth, she felt a certain level of unease.

……….

Wolf disentangled himself from Fox and rolled onto his back with a grumble. He’d fallen asleep spooning the vulpine, and now his legs were cramped. He barely cared though – there was something that needed taking care of, and damned if he was going to ignore it.

He rolled back into his prior position and ensconced Fox in his arms, snaking his paws around to the smaller canine’s front and stroking his chest, enjoying the texture of the soft fur and the firmness of the lean muscle beneath it.

Fox made a noncommittal mumbling sound and started to stir. “_Whazzat – Wolf?_” Wolf chuckled deeply, and Fox curled his body into the sound with a sound of contentment. The lupine took advantage of the situation and pushed his body full aflush of Fox’s.

“…_Again?_”, Fox finally spoke up, unable to ignore the sensation of Wolf, bare and hard as a rock, gently grinding on his exposed backside. “Christ, Wolf – was three times last night not enough?”

“No”, he responded honestly. It was never enough when it came to Fox.

The vulpine sighed in exasperation, but it was painfully obvious to Wolf that it was purely for show – he could smell the waves of pheromones coming off of Fox, washing over him and ensnaring him in their undertow. He grinned into the back of Fox’s neck while he kissed it, trailing his paw down Fox’s chest before settling on the vulpine’s own erection. Fox let out a sound halfway between a sigh and a hiss as Wolf gently tugged on him, continuing to grind against him in rhythm.

The bliss was ruined by a blearing sound coming from Fox’s comm-device.

Wolf groaned loudly as Fox broke their contact and, flustered, looked at the caller ID. “Oh shit”, the vulpine stated. “I was supposed to meet with Slippy a half-hour ago.”

Wolf groaned again, even louder this time. “Fuck ‘im”, he grumbled – but it was in vain, as Fox had already picked up the call, stood up, and was speaking with froggy-boy, leaving Wolf sitting on the bed with a raging hard-on staring up into the air. He threw himself back on the bed and scratched his stomach.

A few moments later, Fox was dressed. He headed over to Wolf and pecked the lupine on the cheek. “Don’t worry – I’ll be back in a few hours”

“My dick can’t wait for a few hours, Fox”, he groused. “It needs help now.”

Fox rose a single brow. “No one’s stopping you from jacking off. I’m sure this whole room is a nightmare under a blacklight.”

Wolf’s grin turned feral. “And half of that nightmare would be ours.”

Fox made a disgusted expression, but he was laughing. “You can claim _that_ victory as yours, O’Donnell.”

“Up yours, pup.”

Fox kissed him again, this time on the lips. Wolf responded eagerly. They broke away, and Fox looked at him like he was the only important thing in the galaxy. He liked that look.

“I’ll be _back_”, the vulpine said. “We can mess around some more then.”

“…Fine. Go have fun with Froggy.” He turned away from Fox and rolled back into the bed, making a den of blankets for himself. Fox only laughed and shook his head before heading out the door and closing it gently behind him.

Wolf stewed in his blue-balls miasma for an indiscernible amount of time before he decided to stop feeling sorry for himself and get on with the day. This time, when he got up, he actually _got_ up. A shower, a piss and some clothes later, he felt like he was actually awake and ready for the day.

A day of… what, though, exactly? What did he even want to do without Fox? It’s not like the idea of a vacation planet held any interest to him outside of the context of being able to share it with the vulpine. He didn’t give less than a solitary shit about the beaches, or the clubs, or any of it.

He decided he’d figure it out later with a shrug and headed to the hotel gym – maybe working out some pent-up energy in solitude would help clear his mind.

That idea withered away when he found out the gym was small as all get-out and already populated, its two occupants taking turns on the lone cable machine. Panther nodded at him while Falco was busy exerting himself.

“Surprised you’re not sampling the local flavor”, Wolf greeted the feline.

Panther shrugged languidly. “I’m afraid the ‘local flavor’ isn’t quite as spicy as I like it.” He stroked his whiskers in thought. “…It’s also too expensive. It’s hard to buy someone a drink when they all cost a week’s worth of pay.”

Wolf barked out a laugh before rudely cutting in on the machine the second Falco was done with it. “How’d it go yesterday afternoon, anyway?”, he said as he pushed and crossed the cables in front of him, making a point of showing off how easy it was for him to effortlessly move weight it took Falco a good deal of exertion to push. His efforts were met with a glare and crossed arms from the avian.

Panther tilted his head and went silent for a few seconds before responding. “I thought it went well enough – though apparently not well enough to go anywhere exciting, I’m afraid.”

“Jesus”, Falco spat. “I’m standing right here, you know?”

“And?”, the feline challenged.

Falco scoffed. “_And_, that’s my teammate you’re talking about. I don’t need to hear this shit.”

Wolf let go of the grips and let the cables fly back into the machine with a loud, clattering bang, causing Falco and Panther to jump.

“What the hell was _that_ for?”, the bird demanded.

“I got tired of listening to your bitching. Decided I wanted to shut you up.”

Falco narrowed his eyes as Panther chuckled softly. “You’ve got a real sterling sense of humor, O’Donnell.”

Wolf cocked a slightly manic grin as he clapped the avian on the shoulder, causing him to squawk indignantly. “I know”, he responded smoothly.

His alpha posturing diminished some as he heard what sounded like a minor commotion coming from the hallway. “Wonder what that’s about”, he said quietly to no one in particular.

“…What _what’s_ about?”, Falco asked before the noise became audible enough for him to notice too.

Curiosity piqued, Wolf started stalking towards the hall, leaving Falco to look at him in disbelief. “That’s it?”, he demanded. “You’re just going to come in here to stir up some shit, then leave?”

The lupine took one last look back before he left through the door, making sure to stare Falco dead in the eye. “Pretty much, yeah.”

As the door closed behind him, Falco groaned and Panther chuckled. “You haven’t gotten used to his… _unique_ sense of self yet, I see”, the feline commented.

Falco’s brow furrowed. “You’re the most normal of the three of you fucks.” He looked aghast after he said it, realizing what he’d just said.

Panther threw his head back in laughter, and Falco got back to work.

……….

“Well…”, Slippy asked with trepidation as he walked back into the main room for what felt like the hundredth time this morning. “What about this one?”

Fox was playing a dangerous game here.

Slippy had let his parents pick out his wedding garb – which, in normal circumstances, shouldn’t have come out _that_ badly. After all, there are only so many ways one could screw up a tuxedo.

As fate would have it though, Slippy and Amanda had opted for a traditional Aquasian wedding, as per the bride’s family’s wishes. The Granotas had been holding their nuptials in the ancient manner for generations, which meant traditional Aquasian garb was a must for the newlyweds-to-be.

In accordance with this, Mr. and Mrs. Toad had picked out a billowing neon yellow robe composed of a cloud-like material that made Slippy look like he was being swallowed by a giant warning sign made of cotton balls. It was technically well within the purview of High Aquasian Fashion, but also one of the most hideous items of clothing Fox had ever seen. Slippy felt the same way, as he’d apparently had a panic attack when he saw it.

So for the last hour, Slippy had been trying on different potential outfits for the ceremony (all of them generously provided by Amanda’s father on short notice), seeking Fox’s insight on each one.

Unfortunately, every single monstrosity of a garb Slippy debuted was worse than the last one. But Slippy would have to wear _one_ of them, and Fox wasn’t sure he was even qualified to say what looked good or bad or not in the first place anyway, since Aquasian standards were obviously bound to be different from his own.

Even taking that into account, he strongly felt it was physically _impossible_ for any culture to think the thing Slippy was wearing right now would be okay.

“It’s… a little fruity?”, the vulpine said after a moment.

Slippy looked at him with a downcast expression. “Fox… you shouldn’t internalize negative thoughts about yourself like that and project them outwards. My therapist always says –”

“No!”, Fox interrupted, gesticulating a little wildly with his hands. “I don’t mean ‘fruity’ like _that_, I mean like…”

He gestured to the robe, covered as it was with nettings interwoven with brightly-colored, lightweight plasteel pieces of fruit strung together; and the towering crown made of seven tiers of fake bananas on Slippy’s head.

“It’s made of fruit.”

Slippy frowned. “…Not _real_ fruit.”

“Well, no, not _real_ fruit. Obviously”, Fox agreed. “But it’s made of _fruit_.”

Slippy sighed, the banana crown sliding down the side of his head somewhat. “This is never going to work. They’re all _terrible_.” He hefted the offending piece of headwear off his dome and threw it on the floor. “How is Amanda going to take me seriously if I… if I can’t even wear _clothes_ right!?”

“Hey, Slippy, no.” Fox stood up off the side of the bed and walked over to his friend, placing a reassuring paw on his shoulder. The amphibian was shaking. “Amanda doesn’t _care_ what you wear for the wedding, as long as it’s you.”

Slippy’s quaking subsided somewhat, and he heaved a sigh. “I know. Deep down, I know that, but… I k-keep thinking I’m just not good enough for her.”

Fox smiled softly. “That’s a load of bunk, and you know it. You two are great together.”

The frog straightened up and reached down to the floor, picking up the banana crown and brushing it off. “…Thanks, Fox”, he said. “I needed that.”

The vulpine nodded. “It’s the stress of the wedding. It’s a lot to take in all at once.”

Slippy took a deep breath and fully stabilized himself. “Yeah.” He shrugged the robe off and folded it back up. “…I’m glad you guys are here to help me out.”

Fox grinned – but before he had a chance to further comfort his partner, Slippy’s comm-device started going off.

“…Oh”, the amphibian let out. “My dad just messaged me. It looks like people are arriving for the rehearsal dinner tonight.” He looked back up at Fox. “Peppy’s here.”

Fox’s ears perked up. “Great! Let’s stuff this junk away and go meet him.”

“Yeah”, Slippy said, sounding much more confident this time. “…Wait, you mean you think all the robes are junk?”

Fox winced. “No. I mean, well… it’s…”

Slippy started laughing. “It’s okay, Fox.” He eyed the closet full of garish ceremonial robes and mantles. “They really are junk.”

……….

Fox was no psychic, but he could tell there was a certain nervous energy to the surprisingly large-sized crowd assembled in the hotel lobby. He’d been in enough tense situations to recognize unease in peoples’ body language – and though it wasn’t all that bad, there was definitely a certain, unplaceable air of anxiety permeating the congregation.

The fact there even _was_ a congregation was throwing him for a loop, though. Did the Granotas really know this many people? Fox sure didn’t recognize most of them. The closer he looked, the more he realized that some of them looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t figure out from where. An even closer examination revealed the source of the pregnant, wound-up energy in the room: a good half of the assembly were wearing dour expressions and all-but openly glaring on the other half, who were looking equally dour to match.

As Slippy walked over to welcome his extended family (some of the faces Fox actually _did_ recognize), the vulpine delicately made his way around the outer perimeter of the crowd, finally spotting Wolf and Krystal conversing with each other in hushed tones about something. He approached them and sidled his way into the conversation.

“What in the world’s going on?”, he asked them quietly.

Wolf shrugged, and Krystal shook her head. “We don’t know”, she answered. “I sensed a large number of people coming, but something was… _off_ about them.” She surreptitiously side-eyed a Doberman with his arms crossed behind his back, staring down an equally brutish-looking silverback gorilla. “I think Peppy’s here somewhere, but the crowd is… there’s an anger here, boiling beneath the surface. A tension.”

The lupine folded his arms and looked at her witheringly. “Oh, come on”, he chided. “Anyone with two brain cells to rub together can see _that_ much – I know you can do better.”

Krystal cocked her head a little challengingly. Fox recognized _that_ particular bit of body language enough to know Wolf was about to get laid into, so he interrupted the nascent argument before it had a chance to break out.

“Come on, you two”, he said calmly. “It’s bad enough these people are all on edge – the last thing we need is for us to start getting at each other’s throats too.”

Krystal sighed, but calmed down and nodded, while Wolf looked sufficiently cowed.

“Speaking of”, Fox continued. “Who even _are_ all these people, anyway?”

He took another survey of the crowd, and tried to place just where he’d seen some of them before.

Wolf’s good eye suddenly widened in alarm before quickly narrowing. “_Shit_, I know that guy”, he said, almost hissing. He turned to face away from the crowd and gestured to a spindly lemur laughing too-loudly at a joke. “What in the name of _fuck_ is he doing here…” The lupine shook his head in disbelief.

Krystal caught his eye and looked worried. “It can’t all be _that_ bad, surely?”

Wolf turned to look once more at the primate before swiftly turning back again, looking as if he’d seen a ghost. “It’s definitely him. He used to fly with my unit. Decent enough pilot, but not good enough to go places. Or at least I thought so…”

Fox was equal parts confused by Wolf’s reaction and story. He hadn’t seen Wolf act quite like this before. “On Sargasso?”, Fox asked. He eyed the lemur more closely – he was clean-cut and seemed totally at ease, if a little too boisterous. He didn’t look particularly like a criminal to Fox.

“No!”, Wolf gritted out. “With my old unit.”

At Fox and Krystal’s continued confusion, he sighed. “When I was with the _Venomian Navy_.”

Fox’s expression fell. “…You mean when you were flying for _Andross?_”

Wolf looked exasperated. “Shit, pup – when _else_ did I fly for Venom?”

“Fox.”

The vulpine jumped at the sudden voice coming from behind him before turning around in a fluid motion, ready for combat at a second’s notice. Upon seeing who it was, he felt instantly ashamed.

“Peppy”, he said evenly. “…Sorry about that.”

The old rabbit shook his head understandingly before placing a comforting paw on the vulpine’s shoulder. “You’re not the only one on high alert here, as I’m sure you’ve already been able to tell.” Peppy glanced back at Wolf and Krystal and nodded at both of them in turn. “How’re y’all doing?”

Krystal smiled graciously. “Quite well over all, in fact.”

Wolf only grunted, earning a chuckle from Peppy.

“I suppose that counts as a ‘fine, and you?’”, the rabbit joked before resuming his earlier, more serious tone. “I wish this was a happier occasion. Slippy deserves better.”

Fox was tired of not knowing what was going on, and decided to just ask. “What exactly is happening here, Peppy?”

The hare frowned. “Politics, I’m afraid.”

Wolf chuckled darkly. “Well _that’s_ a non-answer if I’ve ever heard one. Sure those ‘politics’ of yours aren’t rubbing off on you, gramps?”

Fox wasn’t happy with Wolf’s tone (and signaled as much with a backwards glare at the lupine), but he couldn’t debate the truth of his words. “Peppy”, he stated calmly. “If something’s going on, then we need to know –”

“I know, I know”, Peppy rose his paws in a placating gesture. “I wasn’t trying to give you the run-around – just get you prepared for what I have to say before I drop the bad news.” He sighed through his nose. “I’m afraid –”

“Fox McCloud.”

It was the second time in so many minutes someone said his name from behind him – but this time, Fox reacted more calmly. He recognized that voice. He hadn’t heard it in such a long time, but he definitely recognized it.

The vulpine turned around and made eye contact with the somewhat diminutive simian, his disquiet over Peppy’s tidings temporarily suspended. Fox extended his paw to meet the ape’s own.

“Dash”, Fox said with a genuine smile. “It’s been a while.” Dash nodded, and they let their arms fall apart. “Or do I have to call you ‘Senator Bowman’ now?”

The primate chuckled softly, but Fox thought it sounded a little hollow. His sudden joy at seeing an old comrade subsided, Fox was starting to put the pieces together – Dash was flanked by the lemur Wolf pointed out earlier on one side, and an _Anglar_ on the other.

Fox took another cursory glance at the room, and realized where he recognized some of the animals from: they were Cornerian military, no doubt about it. And they were locked in a social cold war with what could only have been Dash’s Venomian entourage.

“That won’t be necessary”, Dash assured. The bags under his eyes were noticeable. “This is Captain Fandrana of the Venomian Defense Copse”, he indicated the lemur, who nodded politely, “and Minister Mirno of the Anglar Assembly. He’s my right-hand man when it comes to integrating the Anglars into Lylat society.”

“A pleasure to meet you”, the Anglar said, his voice a little distorted by the breathing apparatus, but mostly clear.

“Likewise, to the both of you.” He said it congenially enough, but Fox had to admit he was caught a little flat-footed. He knew, intellectually, that the Anglars were part of Venom’s new government as much as the Venomians themselves, but it’d been so long since he’d interacted with one, and all of those interactions had been less-than-peaceful…

“I’m looking forward to the wedding”, Dash stated, bringing him back to the present. The ape’s surprisingly downcast and borderline chilly demeanor warmed up a bit as a shy smile grew on his face. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen any of you guys… I’ve missed it.”

For a split-second, Senator Bowman had disappeared, replaced with the same Dash Fox had known back during the Blitz – but as swiftly as it emerged, it dissipated again, replaced once more with the steely Senator.

“…We’ve missed you too, Dash”, Fox said reassuringly.

The simian nodded slowly and began to walk away. “I should give my greetings to the groom.”

Fox smiled again, this time a little forced. “Of course.”

Dash nodded once more, almost bowing a little as he did so, before he and his entourage continued towards Slippy.

Fox just stood there for a few seconds, watching him go. He’d found himself thinking a few times over the years that he should have been more insistent that Dash come on with Star Fox rather than jump into politics, but always wound up telling himself that he made the right choice, and that it was good Dash was able to choose his own path without anyone pressuring him.

Now he was starting to wonder if he was wrong, and if those self-assurances had been rooted in guilt over failing to act.

Peppy approached Fox with a solemn expression, and the vulpine spoke up. “Dash. That’s what you wanted to tell me about, right?”

But the hare only sighed. “That’s only the half of it. I’m sure you’ve noticed there’s an unreasonably large contingent of Cornerian security personnel here, right?”

Fox frowned. “They’re for you, aren’t they?”

Peppy shook his head. “They’re here to prep the area for a certain guest.”

Fox looked Peppy dead in the eyes. “…_What_ guest?”

The lagomorph took a deep breath, and let out a sigh that sounded more than a bit irritated to Fox. “I’m afraid the prime minister has seen fit to turn Slippy’s marriage into a spectacle.”

It took a few seconds for Peppy’s words to hit home; and when they finally did, Fox just stared at him agape. “You’re _kidding_ me – right?”

At Peppy’s silence, Fox turned to look at Slippy on the other side of the room, now conversing with Dash.

“…But _why?_” It was all the vulpine could get out.

Peppy grumbled. “Because he wants to settle this business with Dash over the formation of a Venomian militia, and he wants to settle it in as public of a way as possible.”

Fox’s expression dropped, and he adopted a hushed tone. “Is the House still fighting over that?”

Peppy let out a mirthless laugh. “Oh yes. And it’s gotten even worse.”

The two of them just watched Slippy, taking in the last moments before his wedding turned into a battleground.

“I’m afraid this is going to be a trying few days.”

Fox pinched the bridge of his muzzle and let out a sigh. “No”, he said. “It was already trying. This – this is going to be a nightmare.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't thank you guys enough for your comments - I may not reply to every single one, but rest assured, I read them and am thankful. The gaps between chapters never feel as long to me as they must for all of you, since this whole spanning story exists as one 'block' in my mind and it's just a matter of putting it to pen (or keyboard, in this case).
> 
> So thanks for the kudos and comments as always, criticism and questions are welcome too!


	6. Chapter 6

# VI

Wolf forcefully tugged at his too-tight collar. “Feels like I’m being fucking strangled.” He tucked one of his clawed fingers under it and yanked, but Fox bat his paw away with a laugh.

“Don’t do that!”, the vulpine warned. “You’ll tear it apart.”

“And?”, Wolf shot back. “S’not like wearing a torn-up shirt will make be stand out any more than I already will be just by being there.” He relented in his attempt at loosening the collar and examined himself in the mirror, unsure what to make of the tuxedo. “Besides – I think it’d make me look more rugged.”

Fox put his paws on his hips. “Well _I_ think it’d make you look more like a homeless person.” He reached for Wolf’s collar himself, and readjusted it to make it look as prim and proper as possible. “You look very dashing as is.”

Wolf turned away from analyzing himself in the mirror to face Fox. “Oh?”, he asked challengingly.

“Yes.” The smaller canine let go, apparently pleased with his work. “You clean up very nicely.”

The lupine cocked a lopsided grin. “Well then”, he said with a low growl, thoroughly enjoying the visible effect his tone had on his lover. He placed his paws on either side of Fox’s waist. “Guess I’ll have to get dressed up more often.”

He was immensely proud of the blush rising on the vulpine’s ears, proof of a job well done that it was. “…That maybe wouldn’t be a _bad_ thing…”, Fox admitted.

Wolf leaned his muzzle directly into one of those tomato-red ears and all-but whispered, “_Well, maybe you can help get me out of it after dinner_…”

Fox swallowed nervously, earning another chuckle from Wolf, before he gently pushed the lupine away. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there”, he responded in a clipped tone, obviously trying to push his arousal down.

On one hand, Wolf understood his desire to not get worked up right before a lengthy rehearsal dinner – but on the other, how could he _not_ try to get him worked up? “Hopefully we’ll get there pretty soon”, the lupine said, dipping a finger of his paw _just_ beneath the hem of Fox’s dress pants – but the vulpine batted him away with a laugh.

“I wouldn’t bet on it”, Fox responded, starting to make his way to the door. “You’ve never been to a rehearsal dinner, have you?”

“Nope”, Wolf admitted. “I haven’t exactly interacted with many people who are into stuff like ‘_marrying_’ and ‘_having a family_’, in case you haven’t noticed.” He emphasized those terms as if they were disgusting and unusual, mostly just to get a rise out of Fox.

But the vulpine only smiled. “Well, these dinners can get pretty lengthy – get ready to sit through at _least_ four or five rambling speeches, with a minimum of one delivered by someone while drunk.”

Wolf followed him out the door of their hotel room in the slightly dim hallway beyond – the hotel turned its lights down during the evening and night hours, lending it a warm glow. The lupine hummed thoughtfully before speaking up again. “What are the odds that one drunken, rambling speech will be mine?”

Fox turned to glare at him, and the lupine laughed. “Get your hackles down, pup. I’m not _that_ much of a sadist.”

“Yes, you are”, Fox responded without any hesitation. “You’re _exactly_ the type of person who’d do that just for the fun of it.”

Wolf didn’t answer, because he knew Fox was right, so he only shrugged.

“Wolf…”, Fox pleaded. “Please, _please_ don’t do that. For me?”

He pretended to ponder on the question, exaggeratedly rubbing his chin with his paw, before finally acquiescing. “I suppose – if it’s _for you_, I could make an exception.” His violet eye grew lidded, burning with a mischievous glow. “…You’ll have to pay me back, though.”

Fox’s expression grew flustered as they approached the hotel’s dining hall, the sound of lounge music, tinkling silverware, and the low buzz of conversation emanating down the hall. “We’re putting this conversation on hold.”

Wolf pealed out a bark of laughter, earning a disapproving look from a pair of suited stiffs off to their right. Wolf didn’t know if they were family friends of the engaged, or Cornerian security, or Venom or whatever, and he honestly didn’t care. He met their stare with a wink.

It didn’t go unnoticed by Fox, who sighed as they stood on the cusp of the hall, a handful of concierges standing outside ready to seat them. “Can you please also try not to start a fight with any of these people?

“Sure”, the lupine answered as one of the hotel staff approached them. “But it’ll cost you extra.”

Fox didn’t have a chance to respond as the rotund seal began talking. “Welcome! May I have your names please?”

The vulpine spoke up, denying Wolf the ability to make more trouble. “Fox McCloud, and Wolf O’Donnell.”

The pinniped nodded pleasantly. “Of course. If you’ll follow me right this way, sirs? I’ll take you to your seats.”

The dining hall looked exactly the way Wolf thought it would: all snow-white silk tablecloths and glittering chandeliers and amber-colored walls, like someone surgically removed a luxury Cornerian banquet hall and grafted it onto this teal monstrosity of a hotel. Hell, Wolf wouldn’t put it past the elder Granota if he’d done exactly that. Clearly the old toad had the money for it. As the pair of canines passed a middle-aged hen wearing a three-thousand credit dress and laughing between sips of champagne, Wolf starkly and intimately felt the chasm between the patrons and himself. It felt like he was striding through a dissociative fever dream.

Fox seemed perfectly at ease, though, star-studded golden boy of the system that he was. He must have been to hundreds of events like these. The idea that they were in a situation in which _Fox_ had more street-smarts than himself left Wolf feeling distinctly out of his element.

“Looks like we’ve got a prime spot”, the smaller canine told him mock-conspiratorially, indicating the large table closest to the raised dais on which Slippy and Amanda’s immediate families were seated. Both his and Fox’s teams were already seated there, along with Peppy and his daughter.

All of a sudden, it hit him like a speeding streetcraft: Wolf was a fucking guest of honor at the wedding of one of Corneria’s heroes.

He had to steady himself a little as they approached the table, squeezing his palms into fists to stop them from shaking. Fox didn’t seem to notice, distracted as he was by Krystal waving him over with a smile on her face.

The pair of canines sat down next to each other at the table, arriving in the middle of a conversation already well underway. “Okay – so what?”, Falco directed at Peppy. “If they’re so worried about Venom rebelling again – which is stupid, because Dash isn’t anything like Andross – why not just sign off on like… a small army, or something? Enough to defend themselves, but not enough to actually challenge another planet.”

“You’re preaching to the choir”, Peppy responded. Wolf thought he had the air of a man who’d had this exact conversation a few times too many. “If I’m being honest, I think a lot of the reticence is more symbolic than practical. It’s the _idea_ of a Venomian army that they’re opposed to, more so than the actuality of it.” The hare scanned the banquet hall – Wolf followed his eyes as they settled on a table some distance away, where Dash, that Anglar from before, and that fucking lemur Wolf still couldn’t remember the name of were seated.

He made eye contact with the lupine – and after a heated moment of staring, nodded solemnly. Wolf felt his blood run cold. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. Venom was in the past. _Andross_ was in the past. To have all of that dredged up now of all fucking times, as he was sitting in the middle of a fancy fucking wedding party…

Peppy looked displeased, and sighed before speaking up again. “Though I have to say: Dash certainly isn’t doing himself any favors on the homefront by allying so closely with an Anglar and a former captain who worked under Andross… I don’t know what in the world he’s thinking.”

Wolf didn’t care what Dash was thinking. All Wolf was thinking was that he needed a fucking drink.

“The Anglar leader shouldn’t be a problem, though, should it?”, Krystal asked. “As I understand it, he’s the Anglar peoples’ elected leader, and had no part in the Blitz. Surely they can’t blame Dash for working alongside the representative of such a large portion of his world’s population?”

Peppy let out a sound somewhere between a sigh and a groan. “I don’t think I’m ready to get into the particulars of how the Anglars factor into this.”

“Dad”, Lucy said while poking him gently in the side. “If you don’t, no one else here will understand what’s going on.” She shot Fox and Krystal a smile. “Least of all me. God only knows I never get off that station. For all _I_ know we might’ve conquered the known universe while I was busy fine-tuning calculations.”

“I need a drink.”

Wolf interrupted the conversation, letting the words out without any forethought. The rest of the table went silent and stared at him for a beat, the quiet forming a stark contrast with the ambient noise of the room.

“…Sure”, Peppy finally said, breaking the somewhat uneasy quiet. “The bar’s over there”, he gestured with his free paw.

Wolf nodded curtly and scooted the chair back, pointedly not wincing at the loud, grating noise it made as it scratched against the floor.

“I’ll… go get a drink too”, he heard Fox say from behind him – but he ignored it, and forged a path through the crowd, trying and failing to escape the sounds of obnoxious laughter and conversation pressing in on him from all sides. He was feeling more and more claustrophobic by the second, and the only way out was through a bottle.

He rudely shoved his way between two people conversing at the bar and tapped on the counter, signaling the bartender for his attention. The pigeon just stared at him from behind a pair of spectacles.

“Give me the hardest shit you’ve got”, Wolf ordered.

The bird nodded slowly and went about fixing his drink. Wolf took a deep breath and tilted his head back, letting it out and into the hazy light of the hall. He was already starting to feel a little steadier, just by doing this familiar activity.

“Wolf – are you okay?”

He glanced to his side, and the look of concern in the vulpine’s eyes made him anxious.

“Never better.”

Fox waited a moment before seating himself on a stool next to him (now-vacant due to Wolf’s rudeness). To his credit, he didn’t say anything and just let Wolf stew, something the lupine was grateful for.

“Here’s your drink, sir”. The pigeon set a glass in front of Wolf, one that he could instantly tell was _not_ the hardest stuff on tap. Damn bird probably pegged him for a drunkard.

“…I’ll have whatever he’s having, if you wouldn’t mind”, Fox said with a polite smile, and the bartender met it with another even-paced nod.

The moments passed in relative silence as the pair of canines sipped away at their watered-down, too sugary drinks, the sounds of the party drifting over them like an aural fogbank.

“This shit’s rank”, Wolf bit out, relaxed some and finally sick of the quiet.

Fox chuckled before taking another sip, wincing mildly as he swallowed. “I won’t argue with you there.” He eyed Wolf carefully. “So what’s got you worked up?”

The lupine growled softly under his breath. “_Everything_.”

His partner just laughed lightly again, ducking his head to hide the worst of his smile. “I can’t help you if you won’t be more specific.”

“Maybe I don’t _want_ your help”, he snapped like a petulant child. Fox met his outburst with a sardonic, disbelieving expression, wordlessly calling out Wolf’s immaturity.

Sufficiently nonverbally chastised, Wolf took a deep breath. “It doesn’t feel right for me to be here. Not after what I’ve done. And don’t you start telling me about all the shit I did to save Lylat, or, fucking _whatever_. I _know_.” He chewed on his lip before taking another swig of the noxious, too-sweet drink. “Still feels fucking weird.”

Fox was silent for a moment before speaking up. “I get that.”

The lupine turned to glance at him. “What, no speech about I don’t have self-worth?”

The smaller canine smiled. “I’m not going to launch into you about that, even if it’s true.” He shoved his glass aside, seemingly unable to torture himself with its contents anymore. “No, you’re right. It is weird that you’re here. It’s weird that _I’m_ here. This is just… a very, very weird time.”

“Oh, please”, Wolf responded. “You’re _used_ to fancy-ass shit like this.”

“Not when the topic of celebration is one of my closest friends who I’ve spent almost every waking moment with for the last decade getting married and leaving, I’m not.”

Wolf drummed his fingers on the counter. “Touché.”

“Damn straight.”

They remained in a comfortable-enough silence for another moment before Wolf broke it again. “What the fuck is that lemur doing here, anyway?”

Fox laughed. “Is _that_ what’s got you ditching the dinner table for the bar?”

“No”, Wolf shot off immediately. “…Well, yeah. Sort of”, he corrected himself. “The old fogey’s right: it’s weird as _hell_ that Bowman’s got an ex-Andross guy with him.”

The vulpine frowned. “I don’t think so.”

Wolf looked at him like he’d grown a second set of ears. “_What?_”

“Wolf”, he said with a somewhat-disbelieving smile. “You’re an ‘ex-Andross guy’ too, remember?”

The lupine couldn’t keep the growl from his voice as he responded. “_Yes_.”

“Exactly”, Fox said with a shrug. “And here we are, together, at a rehearsal party. Things change. _People_ change.” The vulpine’s eyes were warm, and Wolf felt himself thaw under their gaze. “I _highly _doubt this guy’s some… Andross sympathizer, or whatever. I know Dash, and he’d never choose to work with someone like that. Odds are he’s just a good pilot who happened to get drafted into the Venomian army.” He turned to scan the room for Dash’s table. “…Actually, why don’t you go ask him.”

“_What!?_”

“Yeah”, Fox said, sounding more assured this time. “Just go talk to him, get it off your chest. Bet you’ll be a lot calmer if you do.”

Wolf flexed his fists instinctually. He had no choice but to admit it.

“Damn it. You’re right.”

The vulpine looked proud of himself. “Am I ever not?”

“Don’t you start getting self-important too, pup”, he grumbled. “Can’t have the both of us getting all big-headed.”

Fox barked out a laugh. “Oh, so you admit you’re a tool, then?”

“Go fuck yourself, McCloud”, he bit out as he marched away towards Dash’s table, Fox’s good-natured laughter echoing from behind him, amplifying as Wolf shot a middle finger in his direction.

He took a breath to steady himself as the self-assured lemur grew closer. The last time he’d felt like this – felt like the past was dredging up and threatening to drag him down with it – was on Fichina, with Leon. If he didn’t man up and face it head-on now, what would happen the _next_ time he brushed up with his checkered history? Cause there was no way there _wouldn’t_ be a next time, not if he was going to keep working and living and being dragged every which-way across the system.

No: he had to make a habit of squaring himself and looking his past dead in the eyes, telling it to fuck off.

And he had to start now.

“_Whoops!_”, the large, offensively orange toad yelped as he crashed into Wolf from behind, knocking the lupine square over. Wolf just laid on the floor, flabbergasted, as the anuran cackled. “Sorry about that, my boy!”, he called from somewhere off to Wolf’s side.

The lupine pushed himself back into a seated position with his elbows – a number of people were standing in a circle around the fallen frog and himself, laughing. It took a hefty amount of willpower to resist snarling at all of them, keyed-up as he was.

The toad stood up fully, though he was still swaying somewhat, and offered Wolf his hand to help him get up. Wolf made a dismissive sound and batted the toad’s arm away, eliciting another laugh from him.

“Oh, _tough guy_, are we?” The bright orange amphibian put up his fists in a bad attempt at a boxer’s stance as Wolf stood up – he was a full head shorter than the lupine, and had a ridiculous, unkempt mustache. “I’ll have you know, I’ve been known to knock men out who were twice my size!”

Wolf just gaped at him and narrowed his eyes as the toad starting hopping slightly from foot to foot while taking wayward jabs in Wolf’s general direction.

“…I don’t have time for this.” Wolf shoved his way past the frog – but when he did, he realized the lemur was no longer seated at Dash’s table, and he couldn’t find him anywhere within view.

“_Dammit_.”

“Oh _ho!_ Now he’s ready to scrap.” The frog was still bouncing up and down – and for the life of him, terrible idea that it was, Wolf was actually starting to consider giving in to the old toad’s demands and slugging him in the face.

“_Grippy!_”, Fox called from over to Wolf’s left, maneuvering his way through the crowd (which had now begun to watch the orange toad and Wolf, presumably waiting for a fight). “I didn’t know you were going to be here.”

The frog – _Grippy_, apparently – let his fists uncoil and drop down to his side. “_Fox, my boy!_”, he shouted, launching into a fierce hug. “It’s been ages. Look at you! All growed-up, looks like.”

Fox chuckled. “I’ve been ‘all growed-up’ for quite some time, Grippy.” The vulpine gestured to Wolf. “Wolf, this is Grippy Toad – Slippy’s uncle.”

“_HA!_”, Grippy barked. “So _you’re_ the infamous Wolf O’Donnell! I expected someone a jot more intimidating, I must say.”

Wolf forced a smile, though it came out more like a pained grimace. “_It’s a pleasure_”, he gritted out.

“Pleasure’s all mine, my boys! Now”, he ducked his head and shot them a conspiratorial look. “What say we get some more alcohol in these veins.”

Fox made quick eye contact with Wolf before adopting a gentle tone. “Grippy – how much have you had to drink already?”

The toad laughed. “Not nearly enough! Now come on!” He started marching towards the bar. “The night is young, I tell you. _Young!_”

The pair of canines watched as he shoved his way through the crowd. “…We should probably keep an eye on him”, Fox said.

Wolf only grumbled. “Old coot cost me my chance at talking to the lemur.”

Fox looked around the hall himself. “Oh, huh. You’re right.” The vulpine shrugged. “He’ll probably show up again at some point. Let’s go get a drink.”

Wolf eyed him curiously. “I thought you didn’t actually _want_ to drink anything?”

The vulpine’s smile was chagrined. “That was before I knew we’d have to be dealing with Grippy all night.”

……….

“What was that about?”, Falco asked quietly as he tapped her on the shoulder, ducking out of the now-stilted conversation at the table

Krystal responded with a light shrug. “He’s troubled”, she whispered, indicating the erstwhile lupine. She turned slightly to watch Fox as he followed after his partner. “He felt trapped.”

Falco grunted and turned back into his seat, arms folded and mood soured. Krystal put the avian’s irritation out of her mind and attempted to restore normal discussion, even if she was a little worried for her fellow canines. “So, Peppy – what _is_ going on with the Anglars, exactly?”

The hare smiled, but looked a little vexed. “I’d hoped I’d dodged that one.” His comment earned a chuckle from Lucy, and he sighed before continuing.

“Well, the situation’s a bit… odd. Not quite unprecedented, but…” He chewed on his lip, searching for the words. “Up until now, the only planet in the Lylat System that _wasn’t_ populated by Cornerians was Sauria – even if there were a few Pre-Cornerian civilizations on worlds like Titania, they’d already been long dead by the time the first Cornerian settlers arrived. Sauria was the one exception, which is why Sauria isn’t treated as part of Lylat in the same way, oh… Aquas is. Or Katina, or what have you. But with the Anglar civilization coming to the surface on Venom, we’re in an odd place. Because, unlike with the Saurians, who pushed to keep themselves mostly separate from the Cornerian government, the Anglars want to take on an active role in the System.”

Falco let out a derisive laugh. “Yeah, you can say that again. Bit _too_ active, if you ask me.”

Panther’s eyes narrowed. “That’s hardly fair. The actions of the Emperor can hardly be extrapolated to that of the entire population.”

The avian stared him in the eyes. “I didn’t see them exactly _clamoring_ to overthrow him, though – did you?”

“No”, Panther admitted. “The Venomians weren’t pushing to overthrow Andross either. Does that mean all Venomians are Andross by proxy?”

Falco gritted his teeth. “You’re twisting my words on purpose, hairball.”

“That’s enough”, Krystal stated calmly. Falco looked at her a tad petulantly before she cocked an eyebrow and he backed down, still fuming. “And Panther”, she added, getting the feline’s attention. “You _were_ egging him on. Don’t pretend you weren’t.”

The feline looked embarrassed for a split-second before nodding his acquiescence.

“And _that_”, Peppy said as he gestured to the cat and bird, “is exactly why we’re having Anglar troubles.” He leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers, looking out over the rim of his glasses. “The Anglars as a species can hardly be held responsible for the crimes of the Emperor. However, the late Emperor’s still popular with many Anglars, not dissimilar to Andross – and the fact that all of this business is happening on _Venom_ just exacerbates all the problems.” Peppy frowned. “It adds another layer to the Bowman situation. What if we give him an army and the Anglars take advantage of it?”

“But dad”, Lucy spoke up. “You can’t seriously think that’ll happen, can you?”

Peppy took a deep breath, and for a fleeting moment, Krystal was struck by how _tired _he looked. “…Well, I don’t think Dash or any of the elected Anglar _leaders_ will do anything, anyway.” His expression morphed into a sad, defeated smile. “I worry about the possibility of Andross and Anglar Emperor adherents pooling their resources, though. But then again”, he said with a grunt as he stretched and resettled himself back in his seat. “I worry about everything. It’s my job.”

Krystal could feel his concern for the state of the system radiating from him in successive melancholic waves. “For whatever it’s worth”, she said as she made eye contact with Peppy, “I don’t sense any duplicity or malintent from the Anglar representative.” She smiled softly. “Though, granted, it’s a little difficult to discern thought patterns with so much mental noise in this room.”

Peppy smiled back at her, his eyes glimmering warmly. “It’s appreciated.”

Her ears perked up as she detected a number of servers holding trays making their way around the room.

“Oh”, Lucy said. “Guess it’s dinner time.”

Falco grunted. “Yeah, and the _lovebirds_ still aren’t back yet.”

As Falco and Panther starting nagging at each other again, Krystal suddenly realized something, wondering how it’d even slipped her mind in the first place.

“Panther”, she asked. “Where’s Fay?”

The feline froze mid-beratement and slowly turned to look at the vacant seat to his left. “…She was here a few minutes ago…”

……….

“…And then I _knocked _him out!”, the orange toad said with a flourish as he violently punched the air. “Cold as a Fichinan summer day, I tell you. They called him the Duke of Ducks, but I’d call him a _Duke of Dunces. HA!_”

Fox barely dodged Grippy’s second assault. The amphibian must have had some kind of reverse metabolism, because his speed and dexterity was _increasing_ the more Aquasian ale he downed. “I think that’s enough for tonight, Grippy”, Fox said with a stern smile, worried less about Grippy overdoing it and more about the possibility of himself getting slugged in the face. “It looks like they’re serving dinner now, which means they’ll be doing speeches soon.”

The toad looked confused, swaying some in his stool “…And?”

Wolf barked out a derisive laugh, but Fox ignored it. “_And_, you should probably be on stage with your nephew and brother for that.”

“_Baaahhhhh_”, Grippy said, the sound coming out strangely like a jet of steam from a pipe. “They don’t need me. I’ll only make ‘em awkward. I make everything awkward.”

“Must run in the family”, Wolf said as he took another swig from his own glass. Fox shot him a stern, disapproving look, but Grippy started laughing hysterically.

“_It’s true!_”, he exclaimed. “The Toads are a queer family, I tell you.” An expression of epiphany dawned on his face as he scrambled to stand up on top of his stool.

“Grippy”, Fox said curtly but emphatically, trying to both stabilize the frog and get him back down from his position. “Grippy, no.”

“_DID YOU HEAR THAT, ALL OF YOU!?_”, the neon orange toad bellowed as he stood on his stool. Fox held onto his shins, looking desperately in every direction for help. Wolf sat to the side and took in the sight with something close to the joy of a child. “_ALL OF YOU… RICH PRATS AND… STUCK-UP MILITARY PANTY-SNIFFERS_.”

Grippy cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled. “_THE TOADS ARE QUEEEEEEEEERRRR_.” He swayed sideways, and it took a considerable effort on Fox’s part to keep him from falling off. He hiccupped loudly, then burped, then grumbled out one last addendum to his now-transfixed audience.

“Thank you for your patronage.”

Then he fell off the stool backwards, on top of Fox.

“_Help me_”, the vulpine croaked. Grippy was heavier than he looked, and he looked pretty heavy to begin with.

The weight dissipated as Wolf rolled the toad off of Fox and onto his side. Thankful for the influx of air, Fox quickly stood up – unfortunately, the crowd around the bar was still staring at the impromptu dinner theater, clearly enjoying the scandal of it all.

Somewhat mortified, he started attempting to lift Grippy to his feet, but the frog was just too heavy.

“Let me get it”, Wolf said.

Fox was going to thank Wolf for helping him out until he realized that, for Wolf, ‘getting it’ meant shoving the comatose frog with his boot and rolling him across the floor towards the exit.

“_Wolf!_”, Fox said with a startle, still keenly aware of the large number of animals standing around them and watching, trying to hide their laughter. “What are you _doing!?_”

The lupine turned to look at him like he was crazy as he rolled Grippy along the floor. “You don’t seriously expect me to _carry_ this guy out of here, do you? I don’t want to give myself a fucking hernia.”

Fox’s eyes stayed hard, but he couldn’t stop his expression from betraying at least a little bit of sympathy. “You could at least roll him out with more dignity.”

Wolf stared at him and cocked a single brow.

“…Okay, maybe not. But _still_.”

The animals they passed on the way to the exit turned to gawk at the bizarre sight. Fox shot them disarming grins to try and massage the situation, show them everything was fine, but he knew it was a pointless effort. There was no way to make people think this was normal.

He let out a desperate sigh of relief as they cleared the crowd and wound up back in the hallway. He looked around for an employee to help them get Grippy back to his room to sleep this off – _carrying_ him, this time, not rolling him across the floor like a sentient kickball – but there weren’t any in sight. “_Now_ what do we do?”

“Now what do who do?”

The pair of canines turned around and looked down to find a third, sitting on the floor in the hallway for no immediately discernable reason.

“…Fay?”, Wolf asked. “What are you doing out here?”

“Counting the tiles”, she answered as if it was obvious.

Fox quickly scanned the room, brow furrowed. “But… there aren’t any–” He yelped as Wolf elbowed him in the side.

“Hey, Fay – think you can help us out with something?”

Her face erupted into a massive smile. “Of _course_, cap’n!”

“Fantastic”, Wolf continued with his most unctuous smile. “This sleeping toad over here is Grippy. Can you watch him for a little while, just until dinner’s over? If you get hungry I can bring some dinner for you.”

She saluted with a level of precision that would put a Cornerian flight officer to shame. “Yes, sir, cap’n, _sir!_” She relocated to sit next to Grippy, who was now snoring offensively. “Consider this amphibian watched.”

“Great”, Wolf said, turning back towards the banquet hall. “I owe you one.”

Fox quickly turned between Wolf and Fay, caught between following him and telling Fay that, no, she didn’t have to watch over Grippy – but in a split-second decision, he followed after the lupine.

“_Wolf!_”, he snapped under his breath. “You can’t make her watch him.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s cruel!” He slapped a paw to his face, sliding it down the length of his muzzle. He felt like he was losing his mind.

But the lupine only laughed disarmingly. “You’re worrying way too much, pup. This is perfect: gets Grippy somewhere safe, gives Fay something to do, lets us enjoy dinner in peace–”

“That last one’s already been rendered impossible.”

“Whatever!”, Wolf said, waving a paw. “Look, let’s just enjoy the evening, alright?”

“…Fine. Okay.”

They approached their table – for the second time this night – when Fox was struck by something. “Hey, wait. I thought _you_ were the one who was supposed to get reassured by _me_.”

“Yo, Fox!”

The vulpine’s ears perked, and he turned to face Falco as he reassumed his earlier seat, trying to ignore the iguana pointing at him holding a hand in front of his mouth and whispering to his antelope friend, eliciting a laugh from the cervine. “Yeah?”, he answered, a little rougher than he intended.

The avian smirked. “So which are you?”

Fox glanced at Krystal, and she shrugged her equal lack of understanding. “What do you mean?”

Falco tried to hide the laughter from his face – poorly. “A rich prat, or a military panty-sniffer?”

Fox groaned, but everyone else at the table chuckled (though at least Peppy had the good grace to try and mask it). He didn’t deign the question with a response, instead choosing to eye the admittedly very delicious-smelling meal set in front of him, resisting the urge to get on with it and start eating already. It’d be beyond rude to start before the host spoke.

He glanced to his right, drawn by the sound of chewing. Wolf wasn’t holding any silverware, but he couldn’t hide the chunk of food obviously filling his mouth. The lupine shot him a defensive look, and Fox only shook his head and turned back towards the table.

Peppy looked up at something. “Oh – looks like they’re ready to speak.”

Fox turned in his chair to watch the stage, and sure enough, Amanda’s father was standing at his table, holding a microphone.

“_I’d like to thank all of you for coming here, to share this momentous occasion with us_”, the elder Granota said. His enunciation was measured perfectly. “_In a manner of days, Amanda – my only daughter – will be joining her beloved in the union of marriage_.” He turned to face her, eyes sparkling. “_I can’t even begin to say how proud I am of her – so I won’t bother_.” Polite laughter echoed through the hall. “_So, while I can still call her such, I want to toast Amanda Granota. A toast to her past, her present, and the long, _long_ future to come!_” He raised his glass, and the crowd raised theirs with his. There were tears in the corner of Amanda’s eyes, mirrored by those in the corner of her parents’.

As Warwick reseated himself, Beltino rose, staggering a little on the way up. He carried a microphone of his own, but when he lifted it up, a nasty bout of exceptionally loud feedback rang through the hall, echoing off the walls and causing most of the attendees to wince – and those with the most sensitive of hearing to cover their ears.

Beltino tugged at his collar and smiled disarmingly before tapping on the mic a few times to make sure it wouldn’t happen again. After the loud thumps echoed through the hall, he leaned into the mic close enough for the noise of his heavy breathing and lip-smacking to sound as if it was coming from directly next to Fox’s ear.

“…_Hi_”, he said tentatively, earning a combination of well-meaning and confused laughs from the audience.

He visibly swallowed and began speaking. “_I also want to th-thank all of you for coming. My boy Slippy’s been such a joy to raise, and n-now he’s… he’s all grown up_.” Bulbous tears started to trail down his face, and his voice grew warbly. “_I remember when he was just_ this tall”, he indicated a height only a few inches shorter than what Slippy was right now, “_we would have all sorts of family events, and Slippy was always the star of the show_. _Do you remember that, Slippy? Do you remember the dance?_”

Slippy, who up until this point had been able to somewhat hide his discomfort and growing horror at the situation, nodded hesitantly. Beltino broke into a sobbing laugh as he continued. “_L-let’s do it one more time, Slips. F-for old times’ sake. What do you say?_”

Slippy paled, and shook his head, sweating. Mrs. Toad was crying too, though, and urging him to do it.

Fox made quick eye contact with Falco and Peppy – the three of them had known Slippy the longest at their table, and none of them had any idea what the ‘dance’ was.

Beltino walked away from the table and stood in an open space in the center of the stage, and waited as Slippy slowly made his way towards him, looking like a man bound for the guillotine. Beltino started to sing into the microphone.

“_Who’s a toady-toady-toad, little toady-toady-toad boy…_”

Fox thought it looked like Slippy’s life was flashing before his eyes. He started to do a half-hearted jig on the stage while making crab-pincers with his hand. “_I-I’m a toady-toady-toad, little t-toady-toady-toad boy…_”

As he watched in horror, agape, Fox felt that nameless, familiar emotion overtake his waking mind – the one that urged you to put your life on the line to fight for your comrades, no matter the cost; the one that separated a commander from a true leader. It was the one he felt in all the pitched battles he’d ever been in over the duration of his life.

And he couldn’t do a single thing about it, bound to sit by and watch Slippy go through this alone.

“_Who’s my baby-toady-toad, tiny baby-toady toad-boy…_”, Beltino continued, his weeping making it hard to understand the words. Perhaps that was a mercy.

Slippy swallowed again. He looked like he was going to have a breakdown, still sidling side to side and now rolling his arms around. “_I’m y-your baby-toady-t-toad, tiny b-baby-toady-toad boy_…”

Fox pried his eyes from the emotional carnage – Falco and Panther were staring at the scene with open disbelief; Peppy with his chin in his paw, the same pose he took when considering a difficult strategy; Krystal and Lucy were frequently making eye contact with each other to reassure that, yes, they were seeing this, and it was happening; and Wolf was wearing a massive, shit-eating grin, watching with rapt interest.

Beltino belted out the next stanza, _wailing_. “_You’re my precious-baby-toad, perfect precious-baby toad boy!_”

Slippy’s dance started to look less like a dance and more like a slow-motion convulsion. “_I’m your p-precious-baby-toad, p-perfect precious-baby-toad b-boy_…”

With that last line, Beltino broke, collapsing on his knees, still crying into the microphone. “_You’ll _always_ be our precious-baby-toad, Slippy. No matter what!_”

Slippy looked on the verge of death. “…_Y-you too_”, he awkwardly stammered.

Fox let out a desperate sigh of relief, a sentiment shared with everyone else at the table.

Everyone but Wolf, that was, who looked almost disappointed it was over.

The vulpine lifted his glass to his lips and drank its entire contents in one gulp, a move mirrored by Falco and Peppy. He slammed it down a little more forcefully than appropriate, and shuddered – he wasn’t sure if it was because of the dance, the alcohol, or some combination thereof.

“Mr. McCloud?”

Fox turned around in his seat at the sound of the voice to find a well-dressed pig holding him a small envelope. He looked like one of the hotel staff.

“Uh, thanks”, he addressed the porcine, who bowed in response. “Who’s this from?”

The pig shook his head. “I’m not sure, sir. It was handed to me by a lemur. He didn’t share his name.”

At the word ‘lemur’, Wolf’s ears perked up. Curious, Fox opened up the envelope, and read the small message contained inside.

_Meet me in room 103 after the party. Alone._

_We have much to discuss._

_– Dash_

“What’s _that_ about?”, Wolf asked, rudely leaning his muzzle over Fox’s shoulder and trying to read the note.

Fox frowned, trying to ride out the sensation of a strange weight in his gut. Krystal’s glance in his direction clued him in that she felt it too.

“I’m not sure”, he admitted, before looking up at the stage again, both of the Toad men now reseated at their table. He took a quick scan of the room to see if he could find the message’s writer, but to no avail. He crumpled the note up and stuffed it in his pocket, wishing for another drink.

He glanced at Wolf. “…But I think I'm about to find out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter down - we're probably about halfway through this story.
> 
> Thanks for kudos, comments and criticism as always.


	7. Chapter 7

# VII

The hallway was surprisingly quiet considering the remnants of the rehearsal party still going on downstairs – clearly Mr. Granota had invested quite a bit in proper insulation for his hotel. The large, orb-shaped light fixtures placed at regular intervals along the wall gave off a soft, milky glow; like miniature moons, each one housed in a decorative brass sconce. The way the light played off the teal color of the walls and carpet made it look like the hall was underwater. The muffled sounds coming from elsewhere in the building only added to the effect.

Fox walked down the length of the hall with a certain level of trepidation, his pace (perhaps fittingly) matching that of a man walking underwater. He knew this meeting was inevitable – had known it in the instant Dash had arrived and offered him that strangely cool welcome, so far afield from the personality of the primate he’d known back during the Blitz.

But _had_ he’d really known Dash? The real Dash?

They’d only worked alongside each other for a few months, but Fox knew better than anyone that wartime made fast friends of people. The relationships people forged with their comrades during times of crisis were arguably the strongest ones imaginable. You lived with them, worked with them, sacrificed with them – if Fox couldn’t trust the Dash he’d known during those days, then he couldn’t trust his own capacity to trust.

But he had to face the possibility that the Dash of today might not be the same Dash of the Anglar Blitz. Becoming a political figure at such a young age, forging a peace between the Venomians and the Anglars, retaliating against both the Venomians and Anglars who resented that peace, working under scrutiny and mistrust from Corneria – the simian had lived through a litany of trials over the last few years, enough to radically alter _anyone’s_ outlook.

Worried about what might face him, but knowing the duty needed to be done, Fox knocked on the door to room 103. He only waited for about two seconds before the enigmatic lemur – Fan-_something_, Fox half-remembered – opened the door quietly and nodded at him. He must have been waiting there. 

Waiting for Fox.

The vulpine nodded in response, and entered the suite as the lemur closed and locked the door behind him. The room was virtually identical to his and Wolf’s, albeit with two bedrooms instead of one. The room’s lights were only a shade brighter than those outside – it took Fox’s eyes a split-second to adjust, as he noticed both Dash and the Anglar minister. The former turned from his position staring out the window to face the vulpine, and the latter remained seated.

“Fox”, Dash said by ways of welcome. He walked towards the middle of the room and indicated a plush chair already put into position.

Fox did a quick scan of the room. “Aren’t you going to sit too?”, he asked, upon noticing there weren’t any other chairs.

Dash frowned. “Not now, I don’t think”, he responded as he moved to the kitchenette counter to fix himself a drink. Fox noticed his hands were shaking. “I thank you for taking my wellbeing into consideration, though.”

Fox nodded slowly as he watched Dash amateurishly assemble a mixed drink, hands trembling all the while. The vulpine tensed his own paws a few times, unsure of what to make of this situation. He’d never known Dash to speak so… _diplomatically_, back when they worked together. He wanted to chock it up the ape’s time in politics, except for the fact that it didn’t sound natural. It was like he was trying to play the part of a career politician, and only half-succeeding

“Captain Fandrana”, Dash indicated the lemur. “Your service has been much appreciated – you have my leave to retire for the night.”

“Yes, sir.” The lemur bowed to Dash, then to the Anglar, and finally to Fox. As he made eye contact with the vulpine, Fox noticed a glint in his eye – one whose emotion he couldn’t place.

The trio waited in silence as Fandrana exited the room, and then for about a minute afterwards. Fox sitting on the chair and gripping his thighs; the Anglar sitting quietly, with the sound of his water-filled apparatus chugging softly; and Dash, moving his balance from foot to the other, swirling his drink and yet not taking a swig of it.

Unable to put up with it anymore, Fox broke the silence. “Dash”, he stated evenly but authoritatively. “What in the world is going on?”

The simian met his eyes with his own, and Fox recognized a challenge when he saw one. Their eyes remained locked for a few seconds, but when Fox raised his brow and tilted his head in expectation, Dash broke off and let out a deep, beleaguered sigh. He slouched and let his gaze fall to the floor. Just as easily as Fox could recognize a challenge, he could also recognize a broken animal.

“Nothing good”, the simian finally answered. He trudged over to the bed and sat on it in a controlled fall, shoulders looking as if they carried the weight of a world – which, Fox had to remind himself, they _did_.

“…Can you explain why?”, Fox asked softly.

Dash raised his head and made eye contact with the Anglar minister before turning back to Fox and responding. “I don’t even know where to begin”, he breathed out.

Fox leaned forward in his chair. “Well, we all have to start somewhere.”

The primate let out a desperate laugh, the kind someone made when they were in so far over their head the line between tragedy and comedy became blurred. He put his hand on his forehead and smoothed back his hair – it was a familiar anxious tic. “Christ, McCloud. You haven’t changed a bit.”

Fox kept his expression neutral. “I can’t say the same about you, Dash.”

The two mammals locked gazes again – but there wasn’t any challenge this time. No, the emotions swirling in Dash’s eyes formed a cocktail of nostalgia and sorrow. “No… No, I don’t suppose you can.” The simian smiled wanly. “I barely even recognize _myself_ these days. I’m buried under so many layers of infighting, and politics, and… and _bullshit_…” His face contorted into a raging sneer for a fleeting second before returning to its earlier sad smile. “I don’t even know how far I have to dig to get myself back out from under it.”

The vulpine folded his paws, still leaning over in his chair. “Not too far, if that little outburst was any indication.”

They stared each other down again, Fox’s eyes betraying the laughter ready to escape, and Dash could do nothing but respond in kind. The two mammals laughed, first quietly, then quickly escalating into raucous belly-laughter. Fox barely even knew _why_ they were laughing.

As their laughter subsided, Dash sighed. “I’ve missed you, Fox. I’ve missed _everyone_.” He chewed on the inside of his cheek. “God help me, I miss the _Blitz_. Things were so much easier back then.”

The sound of metallic chuckling drew Fox’s attention away. “Make sure no one overhears you saying that, Senator – the last thing we need is a soundbite like _that_ circulating around the extranet.”

Fox looked at the Anglar, surprised. He’d forgotten he was even there.

“Oh, my apologies, Fox.” Dash gestured to the Anglar. “I believe you’ve already met Minister Mirno.”

“I have, yes”, Fox answered. It was the truth, even if he’d forgotten the Anglar’s name.

Dash nodded, smiling mischievously. “Mirno is the only reason we haven’t gone to war with the Anglars again.”

The Anglar harrumphed. “The monkey lies, and he knows it.” He resettled in his chair with a sound of exertion – Fox supposed he was elderly, though it was difficult to say. “In truth, _he’s_ the only reason there hasn’t been another war. If the Venomian government hadn’t supported my coalition’s claim, then the pro-imperialists would’ve assumed control of Anglar society instead, and started the war all over again.”

Fox looked back to Dash, and the simian shrugged. “It’s not untrue, but he’s also exaggerating it a bit. I was hardly the only person on Venom pushing to normalize the relationship with the Anglars.”

“No”, Mirno said with a shake of his head. “But you _were_ the loudest voice in the room.”

Fox watched their interplay with interest. “I don’t understand”, he admitted. “It sounds like things are fine, based on your friendship here.”

Mirno’s eyes squinted in discomfort, and Dash let out another desperate laugh. “Oh, they are – at least between me and the Minister here. But you have no idea how precarious it all is.”

Dash had been remarkably mature for his age during the Blitz – an ‘old soul’, Peppy called him – but here and now, he looked like the young man he really was.

“…Alright, Dash”, fox said calmly. “I can’t help you unless I know what the problem is – so _tell_ me how precarious it all is.”

Mirno nodded at the primate, and he took a deep breath. “…You’re right”, he said with a clipped tone. “Of course you’re right. It’s why I invited you up here in the first place.” He swirled the drink around in his hand, still without taking a sip of it. “I don’t know where to start, though.”

Fox shrugged. “Just start by listing all the problems and go from there.”

Dash huffed out another singular laugh. “Alright. Well,” he said as he started pacing. “First off, Venom’s governor – Director Prolate, you probably haven’t heard of him.”

“I haven’t”, Fox interjected.

“And for good reason”, Dash continued. “He’s worthless. He doesn’t do anything. I signed up for this job assuming I’d be representing Venom on the systemwide stage, and instead I’m basically running the entire planet. And Prolate’s cabinet is full of equally worthless animals who only got there because they knew him personally, so I can’t count on _any_ of them to do their jobs. So I’m doing my work in the House of Commons, but I’m also basically running all of Venom’s social and economic programs. I barely sleep anymore.”

He paced over towards the window. “Next, there’s the Adherents, who keep gaining ground no matter _what_ I do to try and quash them –”

Fox held up a paw, signaling him to pause. “The Adherents?”

Dash looked at him and frowned. “The Adherents of Andross”, he clarified.

The vulpine’s expression soured. “I was under the impression pro-Andross groups were scattered and ineffective.” At least, that was the impression given to him by his Cornerian military perspective, he thought.

Dash all-but groaned. “They were, up until about a year ago. The Adherents have absorbed a lot of the smaller outfits and unified them under one banner – and they only get more powerful as time goes on. Every month their number grows, and every month I have to handle another terrorist attack.” He exhaled through his nostrils. “And I _know_ their ranks are only swelling because more and more Venomians are turned off and disaffected by Prolate’s government. Do you have any idea how many Venomian citizens live in prefabs instead of houses?”

“I don’t.”

“Well, it’s a lot. I don’t even have any solid numbers because my census-takers keep getting shot whenever they stray too far from the major population centers. That’s how bad this Adherent situation is.” He continued to pace, drink now abandoned on the counter. “And then on top of the Adherents, there’s the Rex Concordia –”

“I’m sorry”, Fox interrupted again, apologetic smile on his face. “You’re going to have to explain that one, too.”

Mirno grumbled. “That particular threat stems from _my_ people, I’m afraid.” He made eye contact with Fox – the vulpine still couldn’t find it in himself to be fully comfortable with those vacant, pupil-less Anglar eyes, guessing his discomfort was rooted in his unfamiliarity with the species’ expressions. “I believe I mentioned the pro-imperialists that were defeated by our democratic-republic coalition in the referendum, yes?”

Fox nodded. “You did, sort of.”

“Well”, the Anglar continued. “They didn’t exactly decide to roll over and embrace harmony after the vote ended.”

“So, yeah”, Dash said. “I’m dealing with an organized Andross revivalist movement killing government officials and slowly absorbing more of the planet into their underground empire – and _also_ an organized Anglar Empire revivalist movement assassinating elected Anglar congressmen and trying to start another systemwide war.” He gestured to the Anglar present in the room. “Mirno here’s been shot at twice already.”

“To be fair”, the Minister added with what Fox thought might have been a wry expression. “I only got hit one of those times, and it was a glancing blow.”

Fox’s brow furrowed. “You shouldn’t have been shot at all, though.” He turned back to Dash. “If this had happened on any other planet in Lylat –”

Dash threw his hand dismissively. “Then the whole cavalry would’ve charged in to eliminate the attackers – yes, yes, I know. That’s the root of the problem here.” He stopped pacing. “Venom has no army. We barely even have a police force; at least one that isn’t totally corrupt and full of Prolate’s people at the top. The Adherents and the Rex Concordia are slowly but surely eating away at the planet with impunity – and if no one stops them soon, they’re going to deal a major blow. It’s not a question of ‘if’, but rather ‘when’, and ‘which one.’”

Fox rubbed his muzzle in thought, finally dropping his paw with a defeated sigh. “Dash… Why didn’t you just tell me this months ago? Why didn’t you tell _Peppy?_ Venom is part of the Lylat System, and you’re a trusted ally.”

“Am I?”, the primate threw back at him.

Fox locked eyes with Dash. He recognized a surface level of fury in the simian’s eyes – but below it, fear. “I don’t understand”, Fox said with a shake of his head. “Do you have any reason to believe otherwise?”

Dash’s fury subsided, replaced by a veneer of doubt. “Don’t you ever wonder, Fox?”, he asked softly. “Wonder about what they’re not telling you?”

“Dash”, the Anglar said in a clipped, warning tone.

“Who, Dash?”, Fox demanded. “Do I wonder about what _who’s_ not telling me?”

The ape groaned and rubbed his face. “_Corneria_, Fox.”

Mirno tilted his head. “Dash, perhaps it is best if we –”

“Corneria’s a big place”, Fox responded. “With a lot of moving parts involved. If you think someone on Corneria’s trying to harm Venom, then I can help find out who and put a stop to it.”

“You can’t”, Dash responded, voice sounding equal parts desperate and small. “You don’t have any idea what’s going on. Hell, _Peppy_ probably doesn’t even know what’s going on. This goes so much deeper than just… the Adherents, or the fucking Rexies.”

“Senator Bowman…”, Mirno tried again.

“I have ships disappear on me”, Dash said emphatically. “In open space. One moment they’re on radar, the next they’re fucking _gone_. That’s not something either of these groups are capable of. And that’s not the only funny business going on”, he continued. “Warships with weird callsigns popping in and out my territory. Ships landing on schedule on Venom’s ports but all the crew is gone without a trace. Ghosts sneaking into secure locations and destroying them from the inside –”

“That’s _ENOUGH!_”, Mirno shouted, stomping his foot on the ground.

Dash ignored him. “Now do you get it?”, he asked Fox forcefully, voice wavering. “Now do you get why I had to send that spy into the LCI’s headquarters?” He kept his eyes fixed on Fox like a hawk, and the Minister bowed his head and sighed.

Fox just stared back at him, mouth slightly agape as he put the pieces together. “…You mean the break-in at the Spire a few months back… that was _you?_”

The primate grimaced and turned away. “…I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Dash…”, Fox said, shaking his head slowly in disbelief. “What the _hell?_”

“_That’s what I told him_”, Mirno grumbled under his breath.

Dash turned back on a dime, furious look in his eyes. “I did what I had to do to protect my people!” He breathed heavily for a few seconds before starting to sag. “…What little of them even want me to protect them, anyway.”

The Anglar hummed in thought and shuffled in his seat. “You underestimate your support. Most of the planet would rather live under your leadership than that of the alternatives.”

“But those alternatives get stronger and stronger every day”, Dash gritted out. “While we get weaker, gutted out by the government’s that supposed to be supporting us.”

Fox’s ears went fully alert, and he raised his paw. “Now, hold on a second – how do you know Corneria’s responsible for all of these… anomalies?”

Dash’s expression turned chagrined. “Come _on_, Fox.” He threw his hands up. “Who else could pull this kind of stuff off?” He exhaled through his nose. “Besides, we all know there’s a sizeable contingent on Corneria that would prefer lesser planets to stay weak – think about Titania. They _want_ the Adherents to take over, so they can start another war!”

Fox took a deep breath and thought it over.

His gut reaction told him it wasn’t possible – he’d met the people who’d have to be in charge of this hypothetical operation, Captain Hugin chief among them, and he didn’t think it was possible for them to pull something like this off in secret without the rest of the Navy noticing.

But on the other hand… it’d been so long since Fox last thought about Titania. The LCI _did_ empower Tertulli in his ambitions to ethnically cleanse the bedanti, all so they could develop a relationship with someone on the inside of the Enclave (and snag a Goras or two for experimental military purposes). And as far as Fox knew, Hugin and the Prime Minister had signed off on that without any moral compunctions whatsoever.

Would it really be that unfeasible for Hugin and his people to run some clandestine ops against Dash on the side, without Peppy and the rest of the Navy knowing?

He stroked the underside of his muzzle as he continued to think. “…I don’t know. But it’s possible”, he finally admitted. “I can look into it.”

Dash let out a massive sigh of relief, and actually smiled, even if it was a little weak. “Thank you, Fox – I can’t even begin to let you know how grateful I am.”

Fox put his paws up and smiled bashfully. “It’s no problem, Dash. I just wish you would’ve said something sooner.”

“Yeah”, the primate responded. “Yeah, you’re… you’re right. I guess I just wanted to, you know…” He took a beat to find the words. “…Prove I could do it myself.” He shrugged. “Turns out I can’t.”

The vulpine got up and walked over to Dash, gripping him reassuringly on the shoulder. “That’s bullshit and you know it. You’ve put up with a lot – way more than I thought you have. Anyone would be struggling in this situation.”

Dash shrugged again, the pressure coming up under his paw, but this time there was another weak smile on his face. “…Maybe”, he acquiesced.

Fox smiled reassuringly. “I think you should get some rest – you look dead on your feet.”

“I concur”, Mirno said with a grumble as he stood up from his chair. “It’s been a long night. A long _year_, in truth.”

“You’re right.” Dash turned once more to face Fox and extended his hand. “Thanks again, Fox.”

The vulpine grasped and shook it. “Trust me, it’s not a problem.”

Dash smiled as he let his hand slip from Fox’s paw. “Here’s to hoping the wedding isn’t as nightmarish as that dinner.”

Fox grimaced. “You could probably get the Cornerians and Venomians to come together on that one.”

The primate chuckled. “Maybe that’s all we really need to solve this crisis after all: shared pain.”

Fox laughed as he made his way back towards the door. “Good night, Dash – get some sleep.”

Dash shot him a mock salute before turning towards his own personal room.

The vulpine almost made it to the door before he heard a vaguely mechanical throat-clearing sound emanate from behind him. He glanced back to see Mirno staring at him, and was once again struck by how discomforting he found his gaze, before feeling guilty for judging him based on that. “Can I help you?”, he asked in a way intended to sound polite but which came out a little confrontational.

The Anglar’s brow crinkled. “Not me, no – but you can help Dash”, he said in a barely-audible tone.

Fox’s own brow furrowed. “I wasn’t lying back there – I _will_ get to the bottom of this.”

“You misunderstand”, Mirno said as he shook his head. “I don’t doubt you will try – but I doubt you will succeed.”

The vulpine folded his arms defensively. “Why is that?”

“Because Dash isn’t looking in the right place.”

Fox wasn’t sure what he expected to hear, but it wasn’t that. “…What do you mean?”

Mirno tilted his head back slightly to make sure Dash’s door was safely closed. “He’s dead-set on Corneria’s being the culprit behind Venom’s woes, but I strongly believe he’s mistaken.” He turned back to Fox, and this time the vulpine could make out a proper expression – worry. “Octovarian mercenaries have amassed in the neutral zone between their own system and ours.”

Fox frowned – Wolf had said something about Octovarians being involved on Fichina, but they’d both assumed it was strictly criminal business. It wasn’t unusual for the Families to hire out-of-system, after all. “And you believe they’re responsible? Why?”

The Anglar’s gaze grew unmistakably wary, and he spoke in a hushed, urgent tone. “Because the Lord of the Left Hand Armada leads them – and Baloz the Breaker is a man to be feared.”

The vulpine’s eyes narrowed. “Baloz…” He remembered that name was involved with Fichina too, somehow, but it also tickled his memory of something deeper. Darker.

Then it hit him.

“You mean the Anglar General Baloz?”, he asked. “The one who led the invasion here?” The Scourge of Aquas was a barely-healed wound on the planet – it was no coincidence Mirno’s reception had been so chilly in the hotel lobby. The war crimes committed by the Anglars on Aquas weighed on Fox’s mind from time-to-time, as Star Fox has been assigned to defend Zoness instead, while it later came to light that the situation on Aquas had been far worse.

Mirno nodded surreptitiously. “The very same.”

Fox was starting to put pieces together, and he didn’t like the look of the assembled puzzle. “You’re telling me he’s _leading_ the Octovarian mercenaries?” He shook his head in disbelief. “Do you have any proof? Why haven’t you told Corneria?”

The Anglar rose his hand to quell Fox’s questions. “I don’t, which is why I haven’t said anything to anyone but the Senator.” He let his hand drop. “But I have a very, _very_ strong suspicion, rooted in data gathered from the LCI’s headquarters.”

Fox rose a single brow. “You know you two aren’t off the hook for that, right? Eventually it’s going to come out that Venom was behind it.”

“It doesn’t matter”, Mirno shook his head. “What’s important is that I know Baloz disappeared from Lylat after the war, returned with Octovarian mercenaries in tow, absorbed all of the financial assets of the Families, and now – suddenly – a full-fledged Octovarian mercenary _fleet_ lies poised to invade Lylat. A fool could make sense of this!” He took a deep breath. “Dash is so blinded by his fear of the past that he’s not taking the time to assess the dangers of the future.”

Fox shifted his weight uncomfortably. “Why do you think Baloz is leading them, rather than just getting the necessary funds to hire them?”

The Anglar locked eyes with him. “Because he wanted to be Emperor.”

Fox chewed on his lip, thinking. “So he supports the pro-Andross and pro-Empire terrorists on Venom to overthrow the local government, establishes Venom as his own base of support, brings in the mercenary fleet…”

“And then begins the conquest anew, yes.”

An involuntary chill ran down Fox’s spine – the Minister’s words were making sense, far more than Dash’s had. “…You’ve given me a lot to think about. I’m going to tell Peppy about this.”

Mirno sighed in relief. “You have my gratitude.”

Fox chuckled at the idea of _both_ of Venom’s most powerful leaders thanking him – it was something he couldn’t have even begun to imagine happening just a decade ago. “You’re welcome”, he said. “I’m also going to look into the LCI theory, though.”

“I didn’t doubt you would.” The Anglar nodded sagely. “Have a pleasant evening, Mr. McCloud. I wish you the best of luck in your endeavors – for _all _our sakes.”

Fox nodded slowly in response and exited the room – the hallway beyond felt like another planet. He took a deep breath and let it out all at once.

He had a lot to think about – _too_ much to think about – but now wasn’t the time.

There was only one person he wanted to see right now, and see him he would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have too much fun writing intrigue.
> 
> Thanks as always for kudos and comments, criticism is welcome.


	8. Chapter 8

# VIII

The night’s events swirled and churned like a tempest in Fox’s mind as he made his way back towards his room, guided by the ambient glow of the hallway’s now even-dimmer lights, wondering how much further they could darken before the building became fully veiled in the inky hue of night.

An unplaceable anxiety crawled its way up his spine as he approached and gently rapped on the door – not an anxiety of fear, but rather one of anticipatory trepidation. Too much had happened in too short a time, and he needed a safe harbor in which to relax – to deescalate.

The door swung open soundlessly in a matter of seconds, the familiar grey lupine on the other side emblazoned in Fox’s mind as more than just an individual.

Somehow, he had become _home_.

“The afterparty fun?”, Wolf asked sarcastically with a grin as loaded as a gun, violet eye reflecting what little remained of the hall’s pelagic globe-lights. The first few buttons of his dress shirt were tantalizingly undone, and the room behind him was all but pitch black – he must have been waiting in that shadow for Fox to return.

Fox half-smiled. “Of course”, he responded. “No better way to chase down a party like that than listening to an old friend implicate your employer in terrorism and espionage.”

Wolf cackled. “I fucking knew it”, he said as he stood aside, letting Fox enter. The vulpine brushed up against him as he walked past, the friction of their tuxedos leaving his fur beneath statically charged. “Corneria’s itching for another war.”

Their room was illuminated only by the light coming in from an open window, casting a pale sheen on everything within, the two canines included.

“Maybe”, Fox said with a shrug. “There are a couple of theories.”

“_Hmm_”, Wolf answered, coming up on Fox from behind and laying his paws on both of his shoulders. The lupine leaned in, and Fox swore he could almost see his breath in the moonlight as he whispered into his ear, sending chills down his spine. “You want to talk about it right now?”

The heat of Wolf’s voice contrasted with the cool breeze coming in through the window. Fox laid a paw one of lupine’s and melted into the embrace, feeling the warm firmness of _Wolf_ against his back – fortified, entrenched, protecting him.

He tilted his head back towards Wolf’s, their muzzles gravitating ever closer. “_No_”, he answered.

Wolf laughed quietly, the vulpine’s chest heaving along with his own. “Good.” He let his right paw fall from Fox’s shoulder, trailing down the front of his tuxedo, caressing and pressing the whole way down, before sending a single clawed finger under the hem of his dress pants, curling it. “Because I’m not in the mood to fucking talk right now.”

Fox didn’t even bother to verbally agree with him, opting instead to sigh in bliss as Wolf trailed downward with his other paw, falling even further backwards into the larger canine’s embrace. He wondered if there was a bottom to the drop, or if the lupine’s hold went on forever.

Wolf’s left paw playing with his shirt buttons; his right with his belt buckle; his lips and teeth and tongue on his neck. Fox let out an involuntary sound of pleasure under each and every one of Wolf’s ministrations, earning an eagerly dominant sound in response.

As Wolf started trying to forcefully disentangle the bowtie around Fox’s neck, the vulpine chuckled. “I already told you – don’t do that”, Fox said breathlessly, lilt of laughter hidden in his voice. “You’ll tear it apart.”

The lupine paused, bringing his head down and around to line it right up against Fox’s. “And what if I want to?”, he asked seriously.

Fox met his eyes. “You’ll have to pay for an expensive suit.”

Wolf just stared at him, one paw trailing ever closer, dangerously closer, down Fox’s pants, staying torturously shy of where Fox wanted it to go. The other was settled above Fox’s hip, tracing his claws along his side.

Decision made, Wolf put his mouth around Fox’s collar and stared right into Fox’s eye.

“…Wolf”, Fox whispered, guessing where this was going. “What’re you –”

The lupine suddenly jerked his head to the side with full force, shredding the collar of Fox’s tuxedo apart and leaving a tear that went all the way down to his collarbone. Fox just stared absently in disbelief as Wolf spat out the fabric onto the hotel room floor and stared challengingly into Fox’s eyes.

“I have money.”

Fox stood in silence for a moment, the only sound in the room the metronomic push-and-pull of the waves in the distance, coming in through the open window. He chuckled at first, but was unable to stop it from turning into a peal of all-out laughter. “_Wolf!_”, he said emphatically, laughing all the while. “What the _fuck?_”

The lupine didn’t let him continue to laugh, pouncing on Fox in his moment of weakness, shoving him all the way across the room and onto the couch, almost tipping the piece of furniture backwards. Fox didn’t even get a moment to recover from the tackle, Wolf’s mouth smothering his laughter. The vulpine eagerly responded, pulling Wolf closer and drawing him deeper into the kiss. It was desperate, it was needy, and it was his whole world at the moment.

Wolf straddled him, kneading his paws into the ruins of Fox’s now torn and unbuttoned shirt. Fox thought there was something profoundly, excitingly dirty about the way Wolf eyed him up. The strain in his slacks grew tighter as Wolf descended once more to lay his claim on Fox’s lips, his collarbone, anything and everything he could get at. He couldn’t stop himself from rhythmically bucking into the older canine, earning an approving growl with each thrust.

“Can barely contain yourself, eh, pup?” Wolf gave up the pretense and ripped the rest of Fox’s shirt off – the chilly sensation of the cool night air on his sweating skin forming a stark contrast with the heat radiating from Wolf’s body. Fox just stared and gulped as Wolf shrugged off his own shirt, shards of moonlight providing enticing glimpses of iron muscle and steel-colored fur laced with old battle scars. Fox mindlessly started to trace them in a trancelike fashion, feeling them grow closer as Wolf leaned back down against him, their bodies pressing against one another. The vulpine reveled in the fur-to-fur contact.

Wolf’s paws trailed down once more, making quick, practiced work of Fox’s belt, button and fly. Fox idly wondered how many pants the lupine must’ve undone in his lifetime to get the motion down so fluidly – maybe he’d ask, on the off chance he’d be able to remember anything in another few minutes. As Wolf slid the vulpine’s slacks off, he knew he wouldn’t.

The larger canine took a split-second to take Fox in, no doubt seeing his desperation and admiring his handiwork, before crawling down the length of the couch and settling his muzzle on Fox’s painfully tented briefs. The vulpine hissed and shivered as Wolf’s tongue inched along his length through the fabric before settling to suck at his head.

“W-Wolf”, Fox stammered.

The lupine ignored him, pulling the offending item of clothing down and off Fox’s legs, letting him properly get at his prize. Fox whined as Wolf took all of him in one swallow, and moaned pleasurably as he started rhythmically bobbing his head up and down a second later. The discrepancy between the brisk salt air and the incredible heat of Wolf’s mouth was maddening.

Wolf gently gripped Fox’s balls as he sucked him off, massaging them between the fingers of his paw, before dropping it lower. Fox tensed a bit as he felt one of Wolf’s fingers draw close to his entrance, slicked with saliva. He shuddered as the lupine pressed inside. Wolf fingering him had become a regular part of their sex life by this point, but they still hadn’t progressed any further in that direction – Fox just hadn’t felt entirely comfortable with their past attempts.

There was something different in the air tonight, though. A nameless energy that pressed Fox forward: a desperate need that gnawed at the edges of his mind. He met Wolf’s intruding finger with a downward thrust into it, eagerly reveling in the strange, pinching sensation, riding out a tingling wave of pleasure as Wolf hit him in just the right way.

Wolf let out a low sound that straddled the line between a hum and a growl. “You’re a little wired tonight, pup.”

Fox met his eyes, a challenging glint taking root in them. “That a problem?”, he mocked.

The larger canine grinned devilishly and slid another finger inside, quickly changing Fox’s combative smile into an expression of rapture, throwing his head back as Wolf stretched him, slowly, almost _torturously_. The lupine greedily drank in the sight as Fox writhed in pleasure on the couch.

“Don’t come fast”, Wolf warned as he removed his fingers and got up, walking away. Fox whined in confusion and disappointment, but the lupine only responded to his needy countenance with a lopsided smile. “Gimme a sec, I’m just grabbing something.”

As he walked into the bedroom, Fox knew exactly what it was that he was getting. He didn’t need Wolf to tell him to know. The moment was ripe, and Wolf was going to pluck it like an orchardist takes the prize fruit from a tree. Fox laid there for a moment, in disbelief of his own wantonness, but needing it all the same.

Wolf returned fully naked, sizable erection bobbing visibly in the edges of moonlight, with a small bottle of lube in hand. Fox was surprised to find he wasn’t nervous this time. He shot Wolf a mischievous smile and started slowly jerking himself off as the lupine wordlessly slicked his own cock in a heaping layer of lube. The wet sound of Wolf’s paw sliding along his length pushed Fox closer to the precipice.

“You sure you want this?”, Wolf asked with an uncharacteristic hint of trepidation. He was probably worried after what happened the last time – or didn’t happen, to be more precise. Fox smiled at him with lidded eyes and gestured for the lube. Wolf passed it to him, and Fox emptied a sizable portion of it onto his own member, and more of it along his entrance. Wolf stared hungrily at the display before lining himself up with Fox’s hole. “Let me know if you’ve gotta stop”, he said quietly, barely more than a whisper.

Fox nodded, and Wolf slowly pushed in, eased by the lube but still meeting resistance from the sheer tightness of Fox. Like last time, there was that pinching, too-large sensation of the lupine inside him, but Fox let out a deep breath, determined to ride out the initial pain. He wanted this. He _needed_ this.

It was a difficult sensation to put into words. There was no pain after Wolf passed his ring of muscle, meaning it was all concentrated near his entrance, while the sensation of being penetrated so deeply was emotionally thrilling.

“F-fuck”, Wolf stammered. It was the first time Fox had heard him sound completely uncomposed.

“It’s b-been a while for you, huh?”, Fox chided back, intended to sound in control and failing utterly.

The lupine froze with his cock almost fully inside of Fox, mercifully letting the smaller canine adjust. “I’ve been with you for almost a year – of _course_ it’s been a while.” He started to slowly pull it back out, the friction causing Fox to hiss. Wolf shot a worried look at Fox, but the vulpine shook his head. He was determined to see it through this time.

He withdrew to the tip before slowly pushing back in, eliciting a loud, halting, stop-and-start moan from Fox as he rubbed against him in just the right away upon reentrance.

This time Wolf grinned dominantly at him. “Enjoying yourself, pup?”, he asked, seemingly back in his element.

“D-don’t stop”, Fox barely got out, reeling from the combination of dissipating pain and mounting pleasure.

Wolf grunted as he slowly withdrew and more quickly reentered, earning an embarrassing sound from the lupine. “Don’t plan to.”

Fox arched his back as Wolf thrust in an even pace, holding both of Fox’s legs in his paws. The vulpine was in a lustful haze as he watched Wolf’s muscular torso undulate back and forth, each forward press met by the sensation of his cock pushing inside him. Fox felt a feverish chill take him as he rose the back of his paw to his forehead, gasping at each thrust from the larger canine. “_Oh my God_”, he said, to no one in particular.

Wolf laughed lowly, breathily, before starting to pick up his pace. Fox yelped in surprise at the increased tempo, and Wolf stopped – but Fox grabbed his arm forcefully. “Don’t slow down”, he commanded.

Wolf continued to stay still, violet of his eye barely visible. “You giving the orders now?”

“Yes”, Fox hissed. “_Don’t slow down_.”

The lupine mock-saluted before building back up his pace, letting out a moan himself as the tempo of his rhythmic thrusting rose to a coital taboo. Fox couldn’t contain the sounds coming out of his mouth which each successive thrust, building in intensity. His sight was dominated by the image of Wolf’s body growing slightly more erratic, losing his composure as his pleasure built. All he could hear were both their catching breaths, their growing sounds of ecstasy, and the constant, wet noise of Wolf thrusting into him accompanied by the slapping of the lupine’s balls against his backside. The scent of mingling pheromones saturated the air. It was sensory overload.

Fox shivered ecstatically. “Wolf”, he bit out. “I’m not going to last much longer.”

Wolf didn’t slow his pace an iota. “Don’t hold out on my account”, he challenged.

The vulpine gulped and swallowed, feeling a foreign pleasure mount from the inside-out, the slick sensation of Wolf inside him sending him into overdrive. “Oh”, he breathed out. “Oh _fuck_”. His orgasm came up on him suddenly, bubbling up from inside and racking his entire lower body in ecstasy. He thought he might’ve called out Wolf’s name in the haze as he came, but he couldn’t be sure. The sensation of Wolf inside him suddenly disappeared, quickly followed by the unmistakable feeling of warm liquid shooting onto his chest, mingling with his own. As he came down from his high, he saw Wolf’s hips buckling, cock throbbing as he spent himself all over Fox.

“_Fuuuuuck_”, the lupine moaned, less a word and more a sound of worship. He collapsed face-first onto the smaller canine, and Fox reveled in the contact. Their taut bodies heaved with deep breathing as they sloppily kissed, Wolf continuing to mindlessly thrust onto Fox as an afterthought.

For a moment, Fox felt as if he and Wolf had completely disappeared and merged into one. He wasn’t sure it was possible for any two animals to be as close as the two of them were in that moment.

“Wolf”, he breathed out a few moments later, lovingly stroking the lupine’s head as he dozed on Fox’s chest.

The older canine hummed in response, seemingly existing in the same half-dream state as Fox. He resettled himself on top of Fox, unwilling to let go of the moment.

“…Can you promise me something?”

The small question drew Wolf out his waking slumber. He made eye contact with Fox as the vulpine caressed his now thoroughly-mussed fur. “Yeah?”, he asked quietly, tenderly.

Fox quelled his paw from shaking as it stroked the underside of Wolf’s muzzle and slid down to his collarbone. “Can you promise never to leave me?”

Wolf bored his eyes into his own, a small breeze catching at their matted fur and sending a shiver down Fox’s spine. The vulpine waited in fear as Wolf stared at him, unanswering.

But finally, it came.

“…Yes.”

Fox smiled hazily. He knew he’d just asked an unfair, impossible question – but it was from the heart. And Wolf answered it with just as much of an impossible answer.

The two canines’ heads dipped closer, reveling in their shared dream, as they met for another kiss, this one surprisingly chaste.

Fox was enveloped in the warmth of Wolf as he drifted off to sleep.

He dreamed of promises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't take neurology, kids - it'll decimate your free time.
> 
> Seriously though, here's what was going to be the first part of the next chapter I decided worked better as a short little standalone, and also I don't want to not post the next chapter for another month.
> 
> Thank you for the kudos, comments and criticism. You all keep me going!


	9. Chapter 9

# IX

Fox’s first sensation upon waking was one of relative cool, as if a warmth that had been there was now conspicuously absent. This was followed swiftly by a throbbing headache, no doubt due to the moderate amount of alcohol he imbibed the previous night – it didn’t take much to give him a hangover, something Falco ribbed him over near-constantly. The third sensation arose when he sleepily shifted his legs, eliciting an ache down south to match the one in his head. _That_ one woke him up a little, and he wondered how long it would be till it dissipated. The last thing he wanted was to spend the whole day walking around bowlegged; it’d be obvious what happened, and he’d never hear the end of it.

Determined to not think about it until he had to, he curled up in the bed, keeping his eyes fixed shut. The fact that he’d somehow been transported from the couch to the bed overnight didn’t phase him as much as it could have. The thought of Wolf carrying his sleeping form to the bed drew a small, sleepy smile on his face.

He could hear the lupine himself exiting the bathroom, only now aware that the sound of rushing water on the edges of his waking consciousness had been the shower. The soft sound of Wolf’s paws against the plush carpet drew closer, and he knew without looking that the larger canine was perched, looming over him. The bed grew heavy with added weight, and he felt strong arms envelop him from behind.

Strong, _wet_ arms. Intentionally coating him with damp coolness.

Fox shot up out of bed with a shocked yipping sound, causing Wolf to roar with laughter. He scowled at the naked lupine, sopping wet as he was, obviously not having bothered to towel himself off.

“What was _that_ for?”, Fox demanded.

Wolf shrugged nonchalantly. “You were taking too long to get up. Thought I’d speed up the process.”

Fox frowned. “Well, good morning to you too.” He looked out the window to see that Wolf was right – the sun was already well up over the horizon. The fact that he’d woken up _after_ Wolf was disconcerting: a total role-reversal. His ears perked up as he remembered something. “Oh shoot – we have that brunch, thing, soon.” Amanda’s parents had invited all of Slippy’s closest friends to a meal at the hotel’s veranda for the morning after the rehearsal dinner. Fox looked down at his disheveled state. “I need to shower.”

He looked up to see Wolf staring at him intently, still dripping an unreasonable amount of water onto the bed. The lupine’s expression slowly, devilishly morphed into a malicious smile – and in that moment, Fox knew what was coming.

“Wolf. No.”

“A _shower_, you say…”

Fox’s eyes narrowed. “Wolf, so help me, if you–”

His sentence was interrupted as Wolf gave a furious full-body shake, spraying the now decidedly-cold water all over Fox, the bed, the furniture – everything. To his credit, Fox kept his ground during the barrage, cart-blanche refusing to give Wolf the benefit of watching him recoil from the onslaught. When it was done, he fixed Wolf with a cold glare – the lupine met it with an incredibly self-satisfied, toothy grin.

“Oh, by the way”, Wolf said. “Good morning.”

Fox just stared at him for another second before lowering and shaking his head. “I’m going to take a shower.” He looked back up to eye the lupine. “A _real_ shower, this time.”

Wolf cackled and followed Fox into the bathroom. As Fox turned on the tap and waited for it to heat up a little more, Wolf just stood there, leaning on the doorframe, eying him up.

“What?”, Fox asked.

Wolf shrugged again. “Just looking at you. That a crime?”

Fox felt his resolve start to weaken as Wolf continued to stare at him like that – like he was hungry, like Fox was prey that could never fully satiate. But there was more than simple carnality in that gaze, and Fox knew he must have been unconsciously matching it with one of his own, because Wolf smiled and approached him.

But the lupine passed him at the last second, turning instead to walk into the shower. Fox tilted his head. “Didn’t you already take one?”

Wolf just grinned. “You can never be too clean, you know?”

Getting his gist, Fox stepped in after him – and was suddenly embraced from behind again, falling backwards as Wolf drew him into the warmth of the shower’s cascade. Fox felt his worries evaporate as Wolf swayed gently back and forth, rocking the two of them together. They stood like that for an imperceptible amount of time before Fox spoke up.

“Wolf. About last night”, he broached. “Did you mean what you said?”

The lupine hitched and slowed a bit in his metronomic motion. Fox waited as he took his time. The vulpine had meant it with all his heart when he’d asked: he wanted Wolf by his side in a way he’d never wanted anyone else. The request had escaped his lips without any planning, without any forethought, but he meant them all the same. As Wolf’s silence dragged on, he prepared to explain himself, explain his state of mind when he asked, but the lupine finally answered.

“Yes”, he stated, calmly and matter-of-factly. “But… _Shit_, pup. It’s complicated. That was a real dick request, you know?”

“Yeah”, Fox responded quietly as the hot water and steam continued to envelop them. “I was a little…”

“…Buzzed, sex-addled and freaked out about a war, or some shit?”

Fox chuckled. “Yes, to all three.” He sighed. “It wasn’t fair for me to ask that of you – but I meant it.” He turned around, coming chest-to-chest with the lupine, looking up into his gaze. “I love you, Wolf. I’ve never loved anyone like this before, and honestly, I can’t imagine loving anyone else.”

The lupine looked at him with an inscrutable expression, one that mingled love, sorrow, desire, fear, pity, and so much more into one look, one countenance. “Don’t say things like that, Fox”, he said quietly, almost a whisper, before cupping Fox’s head and tenderly drawing his paw up behind one of Fox’s ears. “You’re so young”, he said, sounding as if it was directed almost to himself. “You have so much ahead of you. Don’t pin all your hopes on a hopeless cause.”

Fox reached up to his ear and firmly grasped his paw over Wolf’s own. “I’m not young, you’re not a hopeless cause.” He replaced Wolf’s paw from his hear and drew it to the lupine’s own chest, pressing into it. “And I love you. And I know the feeling’s mutual.”

Wolf nodded. “It is.”

“Then I promise to never leave you”, the vulpine stated confidently, the tenor of the hardened captain and leader among men he was entering his voice. “Can you do the same? I won’t hold it against you if you can’t.”

Wolf turned to the side and stared at some spot on the tub for a few moments as Fox internally felt much more uncertain than he let show. Finally, the lupine looked back up at him.

“I promise to never leave you”, he said calmly, and Fox let out a small sigh of relief. “_On the condition_”, he continued, “that it’s not time for me to leave you yet.”

Fox just stared at him like he suddenly grew an extra pair of ears for a few seconds before starting to laugh. Wolf held up his paw before he had the chance to respond. “And that’s not a cheap cop-out; I’m being serious.” He brought his paw back down and set it on Fox’s shoulder, taking a deep breath and continuing. “We’re soldiers, Fox. Anything and everything can happen. One of us could get wounded beyond recognition. One of us could _die_.”

“Wolf–”

“I’m not done yet”, he interrupted. “On top of that, we could also end up drifting apart. It’s happened before. I’ve _seen_ it happen before.” His gaze grew gentle, but he was staring at Fox as if the vulpine had already left. “The battlefield’s a shit place for love – and we live there.” He took both of Fox’s paws in his own. “I promise to never leave you… until you want me to leave.”

“That won’t ever happen.”

Wolf shot him a lopsided grin. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Fox ignored his fatalism and leaned into him, immersing all of his senses in the overwhelming presence of _Wolf_. He smiled into the larger canine’s chest and spoke quietly.

“I never do.”

……….

The hotel was visibly more crowded this morning, on account of the sudden influx of guests over the last day. Fox smiled uncertainly at the passersby – he could instantly tell which ones were Cornerian security, on account of their response to his smiles with quick, practiced salutes, despite Fox not having any formal position in the military hierarchy. It should have been reassuring to see so many of his compatriots hanging around, and under other conditions it might have been – but here, preparing for the wedding of one of his closest friends, it had the exact opposite effect. Fox associated salutes and awed, hero-worshipping expressions aimed in his direction with military operations. Walking down the hall to brunch felt less like a vacation and more like he was heading to HQ to hash out a plan of attack. It was disconcerting.

His unease must have been shared by Wolf, whose earlier, playful demeanor was replaced by one of wariness. Their conversation was stilted as they passed through the lobby – it was hard to keep up the playful banter when there were obvious plainclothes LCI agents standing around, failing at acting casual and instead generating a social aura not dissimilar to the tension before a drug bust.

The oppressive atmosphere let up as they walked outside and onto the raised garden walkway connecting the lobby to the patio area, the sounds, sight and smell of the rushing ocean waves against the sand working wonders to calm the senses. Fox let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding as he noticed Wolf’s hackles finally start to lower.

He was going to make a joke to further diffuse the tension when he noticed a familiar white canine relaxing on a patch of grass under a citrus tree. Wolf must have seen her too, because he made eye contact with Fox at the same time – they shared a mutual look of mild surprise, and the lupine shrugged. They stepped off of the bleached walkway and into the garden space to see what was up.

For her part, Fay looked much more relaxed than anyone else they’d seen so far that morning – the tension of the situation must not have fazed her in the slightest. She was lying supine, paws behind her head, eyes closed, with a stalk of ornamental grass between her teeth that – mysteriously – didn’t seem to come from any of the plants growing nearby.

“Hey, Fay”, Fox said tentatively. “You alright?”

She slowly opened one eye and shot him a grin. “Ayep.”

Wolf’s eye narrowed. “Hold on a sec. What happened to what’s-his-face?”

Fox just looked at him for a second before he it suddenly hit him, and he slapped his paw to his forehead. “Oh no. _Grippy_. I completely forgot.” He looked back at Fay. “Is he okay? He had a lot to drink last night.”

Fay just shrugged, not bothering to open her eyes.

Fox’s brow furrowed. “Did… he did get back to his room… right?”

She slid the stalk from one side of her muzzle to the other. “Maybe.”

The vulpine felt a weight settle in his gut, and he turned to face Wolf with an accusing stare – leaving Grippy with Fay had been his idea. Wolf just mouthed an indignant _‘what?_’ at him, and Fox shook his head. “Fay”, he said gently. “What happened last night? After we left?”

She drew the stalk away from her mouth and held it between her fingers as if it was a cigarette. “Well”, she began. “I was _going_ to wait until the party ended, like you asked – but then he woke up, and we got to talking, and we both agreed the hotel was really boring because there weren’t even any tiles to count. Who makes a hallway that doesn’t even have any tiles?” She flicked the stalk away and stared into the middle distance, shaking her head. “These people, I tell you. So”, she continued, “We decided to go for a walk, and he wanted to go to a bar, but all the bars were too expensive, so instead we went to a liquor store and he bought a bottle of whiskey, but the whiskey was too expensive, so he bartered with the store-owner by trading most of his clothes for the whiskey, so we left the place and he got halfway through the bottle before some security people showed up and told him it was illegal to publicly drink and he was dressed indecently, so he called the security person a fascist and punched him, and then we ran to the beach, and we decided to go swimming, but it turned out the beach was a couples’ beach, so we decided it would be fun if we walked up to all the couples and started heckling them, and he got in a fight with a rhino after he made a joke about the rhino being horny, and the rhino knocked him out, so I dragged him behind some rocks, but then the cops showed up because the couples called him in and they recognized his description as the orange toad with a whiskey bottle walking around town in his underwear, so I hid for a little while but got bored, so after he woke up I got some seaweed and made it look like a wig to pretend he was a woman to sneak away, but the cops noticed anyway because it wasn’t very convincing, and we ran as fast as we could and ended up back here at the hotel by jumping through an open window, then he told me he was the king of the ocean and started screaming at the cops through the window, telling them they were trying to usurp his throne, so they got into the hotel to find him, but we hid inside this very garden and by that point I was very tired so I went to sleep, then I woke up a little while ago and he was gone, and then you guys came by, and you asked me what happened to what’s-his-face.” She shrugged. “And that’s what happened.”

Fox’s face had been slowly falling over the duration of her story – by the end of it, he was afraid it was going to melt right off his head. Fay just looked at him with a confused expression. “You alright, there, Foxy?”, she asked.

Wolf patted Fox’s shoulder reassuringly. “I think golden-boy here just needs a moment.” He looked back at Fay. “You joining us for brunch?”

She sat up like a shot. “Oh crap! That’s this morning!” She hopped up to a standing position and swept the grass off her backside. “Lead the way, cap’n.”

Wolf nodded and turned to continue down the walkway, Fay now in tow. Fox joined them, still shell-shocked and unsure how to handle the situation. He’d have to tell Slippy, first off.

_Just another thing to add onto the pile_.

The increasingly prevalent sound of the waves beating against the shore did a little to assuage his anxiety as they rounded a corner and stepped out onto a spacious patio overlooking the beach beyond. The scene looked like something straight out of a vacation brochure, replete with poolside bar. He heard familiar voices coming from a more-enclosed space off to his left, separated from the rest of the veranda by a vine-coated trellis.

The trio walked through it and into a classy dining area modeled after an old-school Cornerian haute café, replete with small tables and canned freeform jazz piano music echoing from speakers hidden behind copious plants. A number of the tables were jammed right up against each other in the center of the gathering area – Amanda and Slippy were sitting next to each other at one end of the makeshift banquet table, both their sets of parents surrounding them. Falco was a little farther down, stuck between Krystal and Panther. Peppy and Lucy were there, too.

Amanda was in the middle of conversing with a few other animals Fox didn’t recognize, all of them women. A strikingly yellow salamander was in the middle of talking as Fox took a seat. “And we _have_ to have a cloaca cake”, she said. “It’s not a proper party without one.” The frog and pigeon on either side of her both giggled, and Amanda rolled her eyes.

“I want a _tasteful_ party, Beth.”

“You don’t get a say!”, the indigo frog spoke up – Fox couldn’t help but find her squeaky voice a little grating. “The maid of honor chooses how the bachelorette party goes, not the bachelorette herself.”

“Yeah”, the salamander – Beth, apparently – continued, more than a hint of mischief carrying in her voice. “And I promise you the cake will be very tasteful.”

All four of them laughed at that, while Fox made eye contact with Falco and Krystal. The avian just shook his head slowly, and Krystal rolled her eyes with a smile.

“Oh, where are my manners”, Amanda directed at Fox and Wolf. “Fox, Wolf – Fay”, she indicated the white canine, who wedged herself between Falco and Krystal, eliciting an annoyed expression from the avian at being surrounded by Star Wolf members, “These are my best friends: Beth, Marie, and Lana.” She gestured to the salamander, frog and pigeon retrospectively – Fox thought there was good chance he wouldn’t remember a single one of them in an hour. “We’re just talking about my bachelorette party tonight. Which will _not_ have any genital-shaped cakes”, she jokingly glared at the salamander, who just shrugged smugly in response while the other two giggled again. “Fay, you’re invited too, of course – I already told Krystal and Lucy to come.”

Fox frowned, and Wolf grinned. “Slippy”, the vulpine said, causing the toad to come back to reality from whatever hazy daydream he was in. “And Mr. and Mrs. Toad, too, I suppose – I want to apologize up front.”

Beltino’s brow furrowed. “Whatever for?”

Fox let the guilt he genuinely felt bubble a little into his voice. “We sort of… lost Grippy. Last night.” When the Toads continued to stare at him without responding, he elaborated. “He had a little too much to drink, and we should have made sure he got back to his room, but – well, it’s my fault, really. I should have been more careful. I didn’t think the situation through.” His ears drooped, and he sighed. “I’m genuinely sorry. I’m going to go looking for him after brunch.”

Slippy’s parents looked at each other, then both of them looked at Slippy, who just shrugged. “You don’t have to do that, Fox”, Slippy said. “He does this all the time.”

Fox cocked his head. “…Really?”

“Yeah”, Slippy continued with a nod. “On my tenth birthday he left in the middle of cake and didn’t turn up for like a year. He came back with a missing kidney.”

That did nothing to alleviate Fox’s misgivings, but Slippy’s mom spoke up. “My son is right – please don’t worry about it, Fox. Grippy’s been like this ever since we were children. He’ll be fine.”

“_He’s never been fine_”, Beltino mumbled a little more loudly than he probably intended, earning a stern glare from his wife.

A few waiters came out with menus and began to pass them around. Fox looked over its contents while Amanda’s father continued to blabber on about the hotel to anyone who would listen. “My daughter’s bachelorette party is going to be held in the _Suite Maxim d’Lev__ôn_, which is – if I say so myself – the masterwork of all my rooms. The whole suite is shaped like the interior of a conch shell–”

Fox ignored him as he debated between a poached egg and whatever a fried üzvükh was (it came with crisped potatoes, so if worst came to worst he could just eat that instead), when Peppy interrupted Mr. Granota’s spiel. “Warwick, I have a quick question.”

The teal toad perked up. “Oh? Anything, of course.”

Peppy nodded. “The drink menu here’s a little… light”, he said with a sly smile. “Would it be alright if I grab something from the poolside and bring it over here?”

Warwick just waved his arm dismissively. “_Of course_, of course. Nothing wrong with starting your day a little hardy, is there?” He beamed at Peppy. “You’ll find our drink selection is as prime this morning as it was last night. Always the best!”

“Thank you”, Peppy said as he scooted his chair back and made his way out of the dining area.

Fox pulled back from the table himself. At a surprised look from Wolf, he explained. “I’m going to go grab something too.”

Falco and Lucy both laughed, but Krystal and Wolf nodded understandingly. Wolf knew Fox was planning to talk with Peppy about his meeting with Dash – and Fox guessed Krystal could easily intuit something was up.

He followed the lagomorph to the poolside bar. The only vacation-goer within sight was a portly walrus reclining on an inflatable pool chair, sipping a mixed drink served in a large, hollowed-out treenut.

“I’ll have one of those”, Peppy told the bartender, pointing to the walrus’ drink.

“Make it two”, Fox added absentmindedly. He really didn’t want any more to drink, but it’d be weird if he didn’t come back with something. Maybe he’d pawn it off on Wolf.

“So”, Peppy began, leaning against the bar. “I take it you didn’t follow me out here to get a drink?”

Fox shook his head slowly, then gestured to the bartender with a jerk of his head. Peppy got the message, responding with a nod. They made idle small talk as their drinks were prepared, and opted to walk over to the railing overlooking the beach below rather than head back to the dining area.

“I met with Dash and Minister Mirno last night”, Fox said, not wasting a beat.

Peppy nodded sagely. “I know.” He chuckled at Fox’s questioning expression. “I run the Cornerian Navy, Fox. I have security people everywhere. It’s hard for a meeting to happen without my noticing.”

Fox chewed on that idea for a moment. “So you already know what we discussed?”

The old hare shook his head. “No. Surveilling private rooms is where I draw the line.”

“Well”, Fox said after taking a sip of the heavily citrus-flavored drink. “Long story short: Dash was the one behind the break-in at the Spire.” At a raised brow from Peppy, he continued. “Venom’s under attack from a mysterious, external force, while the planet itself is on the brink of civil war. He thinks Corneria is responsible.”

Peppy looked like he was about to say something, but held back at the last moment. He stopped to think for a little while, clearly ruminating on Fox’s words. “…I don’t think that’s likely”, he finally said.

“But not impossible?”, Fox quickly added.

The lagomorph sighed. “No. No, it’s not impossible.” He took a sip himself, albeit a much larger one than Fox’s, as the sea breeze wafted over the both of them. “I know the people who’d have to be in on it, though – and to tell the truth, I don’t think they have the capability to pull off something like that right now even if they wanted to. The situation with Octovar and the fallout over the Families are too all-encompassing.”

Fox hummed in thought. “It’s funny you should mention that”, he said quietly.

“Oh?”, Peppy queried.

The vulpine nodded. “The Minister had an alternate theory. He thinks a renegade Anglar general named Baloz is behind everything – Octovar _and_ the Families.”

At this, Peppy went silent. His eyes narrowed over his glasses, and Fox could almost see the gears turning behind them, clinking into place, as he stroked his chin. “…General Baloz is the most prolific still-living war criminal in Lylat. According to Wolf, he was the one who ran off with all the Families’ assets, even if we couldn’t verify that…” He looked back to Fox. “Did Mirno have any evidence?” Fox shook his head, and Peppy grumbled. “…Might be worth paying him a visit anyway.”

Fox’s ears perked up. “You mean you’re going to meet with the Minister?”

Peppy nodded. “Don’t think I have a choice, now. Too many pieces fit together for it to be a coincidence. Baloz has been on our radar for years now, ever since he scuttled off after the Blitz – and after that business on Fichina, he rose quite a bit in prominence on our ever-expanding ‘list of things to be worried about’.” He turned and shot Fox a twinkling smile. “Which is miles-long at this point, let me tell ya.”

They both laughed, but it felt hollow.

The old hare stared out across the sea. “…I’m going to need to tell the Prime Minister about this too.”

Fox felt his stomach lurch, but he nodded solidly anyway. “That’s probably a good idea. Maybe he can assuage Dash’s fears about Corneria?”

Peppy’s expression grew unsure. “Possibly.” He turned to look back at the dining area. “We should head back. They’re probably wondering what we’re talking about.”

“Yeah”, Fox said.

“Oh, and Fox?” The vulpine looked back at him, and Peppy smiled softly. “Thanks for letting me know about this.”

Fox grinned slightly and nodded. “Any time.”

As they returned to their seats, meals already delivered – Fox guessed someone must have ordered for him, and it looked like fried üzvükh, which was apparently (luckily) an inoffensive local variety of cabbage – a loud and not-entirely-civil conversation was going on between Falco and that salamander, Beth.

“You can’t just have a bachelorette party when we don’t get a bachelor party!”, the avian all-but-shouted.

“Oh yes. We can”, the salamander shot back. “It’s not _my_ fault your best man couldn’t be bothered to plan something out.”

They all turned to face Fox as he sat back down – he shot a beseeching look to Peppy, but he just hurried to get himself settled. Fox cleared his throat. “I’m sorry – what did I not bother to do?”

Falco glared at him. “Set up stag night! That was your job!”

Fox looked at his shortest teammate. “Slippy…”, he began. “Did you want a bachelor party?”

Slippy looked put on the spot as most of the table turned to look at him. “No! Well, I mean, maybe…? I guess I just thought, you know…” He looked at Fox. “…_You_ would do it.”

Fox felt another wave of guilt – _too many for one morning_, he thought. “Slippy, I’m so sorry. I had no idea you wanted a party…”

Falco banged his fists on the table. “Okay! Fuck this!” His language shocked Amanda’s parents out of whatever conversation they were having with each other. “We’re having a bachelor party, and I’m going to be in charge.” He pointed an accusing finger at Amanda. “And it’s going to make _your_ party look like crap.”

“Falco”, Krystal said calmly. “It’s not a contest.”

“Yes it is!”, he yelled. “_She_ made it one”, he gestured wildly to Beth, who pretended to ignore him.

Fox just looked at Wolf, who seemed all-too-eager to let things play out as they were.

“We’re going to have a party”, Falco said with conviction. “And I’m going to make sure it’s a night to _remember_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I come with another chapter, along with an actual count of how many chapters are left in this entry. We're now over the 200k word count mark for Worlds of Lylat, which is a little surreal to type out, since my earliest conception for this story was going to be a one-shot. By the time this thing's said and done, I'm guesstimating a word count about equal to the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy - so suffice to say, we have quite a ways to go!
> 
> Thanks for kudos, comments, questions and criticism as always!


	10. Chapter 10

# X

Fox impulsively checked the chronometer on his comm-device again. He stashed it back in his pocket with a sigh, determined to not think about the time anymore – only to look up and be met with another chronometer on the far wall, almost mocking him for thinking he could avoid his preoccupation.

The four of them – him, Wolf, Slippy and Panther – had been waiting for Falco to arrive for an unreasonable amount of time. The avian told them to assemble in the hotel lobby at 8:00 PM local time on the dot, so he could lead them on a 'night of adventure' out on the town – but it was pushing 8:45. Fox and Slippy both knew Falco had a tendency to spend a bit too much time preening, so neither of them were particularly surprised, but Wolf and Panther kept glancing at one another and rolling their eyes very so often. They were obviously annoyed with being shanghaied into attending a bachelor party and then being made to stand around waiting for it when they didn't even really want to go in the first place.

Not that either of them said as much – they hadn't been that outwardly rude towards Slippy in a while, having gotten (a little) closer over their last few months spent living with Star Fox. But all the same, their feelings on being dragged along on a quasi-impromptu bachelor party were written clear as day on their faces.

Harder to gauge was Slippy, funnily enough. The toad had spent most of the last half-hour trading messages with Amanda, and Fox's attempts to start a conversation with him had ended up halting. He assumed Slippy was miffed about Fox's own failure to set up a proper party.

The vulpine absentmindedly folded his arms. He was still a little uncertain about his get-up, on top of everything else. Fox essentially only wore three styles as a rule: very casual, comfortable 'gym clothing' for hanging around the Great Fox; a flight suit and jacket for piloting and general wear; and fancy tuxedos and suits for more professional galas and celebrations. The concept of 'nice-but-not-too-nice' was largely an alien one, and he felt strangely out of his element wearing a more casual button-down dress shirt and khaki pants. Slippy seemed a little uncomfortable too, pulling at his collar every so often – but then again, he always looked a little uncomfortable, so maybe Fox was reading too much into it.

Panther, on the other hand, looked so natural in his attire that Fox half-believed he was literally born into it – and Wolf looked comfortable too, due to the fact he opted to just wear what he normally did. When Fox told him about Falco's intended dress code, he laughed in his face and threw a leather jacket over the tank top he was already wearing and proceeded to waltz out of their room, saying that the day Falco told him what to wear was the day he decided to give up his own balls.

Fox tried to keep his eyes from lingering on the way Wolf's jacket hugged his form, to mixed success. The lupine caught him looking ten minutes ago and shot him a toothy, knowing grin that'd forced Fox to look away with blushed ears.

“It's about fucking time”, the gray canine said as he looked down the hall. They all turned to look where he was facing – Falco was practically strutting towards them, looking exceptionally proud of himself. He was wearing a violently crimson button-down with too many buttons unbuttoned, had a gaudy golden chain around his neck that dangled into his puffed-up, exposed chest feathers, and the crest feathers on his head were lathered with even more styling gel than usual. Fox thought he looked like he'd walked straight out of a terrible reality show program, probably one that involved blind dates and lots of people shouting at each other.

“Gentlemen”, he intoned in a way that was probably intended to come across as suave, but instead felt posturing. “Prepare for a night unlike any other.”

Fox forced a smile that came out a little strained, while Slippy couldn't even muster that much. Wolf and Panther just turned to look at each other, and it took all of a second for them to burst out laughing.

Falco look flustered. “And what're you punks laughing at, huh!?”

Fox stepped forward and put his paw on Falco's shoulder before the bird had a chance to start a shouting match. “Just ignore them, Falco. You look fine.”

That was apparently the wrong thing to say, as it clued Falco into the fact that his appearance was the source of the Star Wolf members' laughter. The avian's eyes narrowed, and he pointed angrily at Wolf in particular. “At least I'm dressed appropriately for the occasion!”

Wolf gleefully stared down his muzzle at Falco. “Oh really? I didn't know the plan was that we're going to become low-rent gigolos.” Panther let out another deep peal of laughter, and Falco started sputtering.

“What are we doing, actually?”, Fox asked, attempting to change the subject before the situation had a chance to escalate.

Falco cleared his throat, clearly eager to resume his role as self-appointed master of ceremonies. “I'm glad you asked, Fox.” He gestured towards the large window at the end of the lobby, facing out on the town beyond. “Out there is a wild fucking city, brimming with life – and we're going to live it to its fullest!” He emphatically pumped his fist with the last word, a certain fire burning in his eyes.

“...So we are going to be low-rent gigolos, then?”, Panther asked, unable to stop a hint of laughter from underlying his voice.

Fox could tell Falco was starting to see red – but Slippy put a stop to it before he even had a chance. “Falco, just ignore them”, he said calmly, looking more uncomfortable by the minute. “Can we just... get on with it?”

The rest of them went quiet at Slippy's question, and Falco even looked a little cowed. “Yeah, yeah – of course.” He quickly re-summoned his wannabe-debonair demeanor. “Let's get a move on!” He turned on his heel, not even waiting for the rest of them to follow after him.

Wolf shot Fox a small shrug and followed the avian out of the hotel, and Fox followed him in turn.

He could only trust that Falco knew what he was doing.

….......

They'd been walking for a half-hour and seemed no closer to their final destination than they had been at the outset. Fox partially suspected that Falco had no idea where he was going and was just making it up as they went, despite his teammate's assertions to the contrary.

All in all, he couldn't complain too much though. Walking through the crowded downtown streets felt like a breath of fresh air after spending so much time in the hotel, even if it meant being jostled by hundreds of people going in every conceivable direction. The central hub of the city was much nicer than the section with the gambling parlor where he got stuck with Falco and Fay – the architecture felt like a throwback to the Corneria of a century ago, probably around when most of this resort-city was built. There was a certain shimmering glamor to the bright, pastel lights on every building and corner that made the city look like a colorful mirage. Infectious pop music blasted from every other storefront – what might feel like a chintzy tourist trap during the day took on a new life at night.

He had to admit: maybe Falco was onto something with this whole 'seize the night' thing.

No sooner did he think that than a porcupine accidentally stumbled into him – mercifully, from the front. The last thing this 'party' needed was for one of them to get sent to the emergency room to have giant needles plucked out. The spiked rodent apologized profusely, and Fox said it was no problem; but Wolf shot the tourist a chilling death-glare that drained the color from his face. The porcupine continued to look over his shoulder nervously as he walked away.

Fox side-eyed Wolf. “You didn't have to give him the evil eye, you know.”

The lupine shrugged and continued walking – they were now far behind everyone else. “He could've skewered you, the idiot. Walking around without protection.”

Fox debated responding, but decided he wasn't in the mood for an argument. He let out a sigh and increased his speed to catch up with the others.

They walked for a little while longer, and the charm of the city started to sour. At first he thought it was because he was acclimating to the sights and sounds and was beginning to find them cloying, but he realized it was because they'd left the city center and turned into another part of town, this one full of nightclubs. The bright colors, signs and bubblegum pop were replaced by deep neon shades and the thrumming bass of repetitive electronic dance music – the hapless-yet-harmless tourists by young animals (and animals trying to look young) dressed not dissimilarly from Falco.

The avian suddenly stopped in front of a domineering structure whose sign was made of alternating bright red and deep blue lights that fused to make a weltering purple. It made Fox's eyes hurt.

“Here we are”, Falco said with a smug expression. “Ready to live a little?”

Fox, Slippy and Panther shrugged noncommittally. Wolf didn't even bother answering.

The avian's expression dropped – he didn't look angry so much as disappointed. “You guys could at least try to have fun, you know?”

“We are, Falco”, Fox assured him, and Slippy nodded. “It's just – we're not really sure what we're doing out here, you know?”

Falco nodded. “I got you, but trust me.” He pointed to himself with his thumb. “Follow my lead.”

With little choice or reason to do otherwise, Fox assented, and the quintet stepped towards the front of the building – now that his eyes had adjusted, he saw that the club was called 'Desire', written in somewhat sleazy-looking cursive. Falco was talking with the bouncer in front, a stocky canine who nodded along with whatever he was telling him. Apparently Falco hadn't completely winged this, having thought to make reservations ahead of time.

The bulldog stepped aside and let them through. Fox entered the club after Falco and Slippy, expecting it to be very loud and full of drunk people – and it was, on both counts. However, there was an element to it that hadn't crossed his mind as a possibility, which caused him to do a surprised double-take as soon as he spotted a zebra waitress who was only wearing a thong and two sparkly stickers over her nipples by means of clothing.

Oh no, he thought, as it dawned on him just what Falco's idea of a 'night to remember' entailed.

The avian looked totally at ease in their surroundings. There was an even mix of men and women in the crowd, but the work-staff skewed almost entirely in the latter direction – and almost all of them in various states of undress. There were cage-dancers, pole-dancer, lap-dancers; even erotic breakdancers, which Fox didn't realize existed until now.

Wolf grinned as he realized where Falco had taken them; Fox knew any enjoyment he derided from the dancers wouldn't be the type they intended. Meanwhile, Panther maintained a neutral expression, and Fox guessed he was torn between wanting to chide Falco for his immature choice of entertainment and ogling said entertainment himself.

It was really Slippy's reaction that worried Fox – his expression went from confused, to shocked, to angry, to mortified in about five seconds, each one clearly visible on his face.

“I've got us a table smack dab in the middle”, Falco yelled over the vertebra-rattling bass, oblivious to the rest of their reactions. “Right below the trapeze!”

Morbidly curious, Fox looked up, to see that – yes – there was in fact a trapeze rigging where several topless women were doing a gymnastics routine, hanging above the middle table like a fleshy, gyrating chandelier. He slowly walked over to take a seat at the table, as if in a haze. Falco slapped Slippy on the back as the amphibian took his own chair, looking vaguely mortified at what was happening. Fox knew Slippy had only visited a strip club once before – also with Falco, if his memory served right. The toad wasn't a playboy by any stretch of the imagination; Fox wasn't sure how Falco could have possibly thought their teammate would find this titillating.

“Heya, honeys”, a sultry female voice said from off to Fox's left, barely carrying over the timbre of the club's music. His brows shot up in shock as he looked at the waitress – the vixen's blue fur instantly made him think of Cerinia. As he continued to gawk at her, he realized his initial shock was unwarranted; it was obviously a dye-job, as the roots of her fur were all growing in golden-red. She giggled at Fox's open mouth. “Like it?” She swayed salaciously, showing off the curves under her very tight cocktail dress. “It's called 'The Krystal', after the famous pilot. I think the color accentuates my eyes, you know?”

Fox realized he wasn't the only one staring. Falco was squinting at her in disbelief, and Panther's gaze held a certain element of appraisal, as if he was weighing how bad it would look if he hit on her.

It was Wolf who broke the silence and spoke up. “Can you just get our drinks?” Fox glanced at him, and was surprised at the lupine's look of discomfort. “We're thirsty.”

The waitress's expression soured a little, obviously upset at the failure of her celebrity look-a-like attempt to elicit a pleased reaction; but she obliged and took out her digital pad and pen, taking their drink orders. As she walked away, Fox shook his head in disbelief. “That better not take off as a fashion trend.”

Panther hummed thoughtfully, scratching his chin “Perhaps not...”

As Falco started laying into the feline over ogling the waitress, and Panther responded by saying coming here was the avian's idea in the first place, Fox took a closer look at Wolf's suddenly unhappy countenance. “You okay?”, the asked the lupine as quietly as he could while still being audible, unnoticed by the rest of the table, busy as they were arguing (and in Slippy's case, watching the argument).

Wolf chewed on his words for a while, attempting to come up with a response. “I don't like her choice of style”, he finally answered.

Fox didn't think that was a satisfactory rationale for being so rude to her, but he decided to let it go as he noticed two new, very familiar faces approach their table. For a split-second he crazily thought it might have been two more strippers dressed up like people he knew – but no, it was definitely them.

He couldn't keep the smile from growing on his face as he stood up, the obnoxious ambiance of the club drowned out by his excitement.

“Bill!”, he shouted.

The stocky, muscular canine shot Fox a glowing grin as he all but ran at him and caught him in a vice-grip embrace. “Fox!”, he yelled, obviously thrilled to be reunited with his old friend – for Fox's part, his own happiness was being quickly replaced with a desperate need for oxygen.

Bill finally let him go with a booming laugh, and clapped Fox on the back – hard – knocking out the small remainder of breath inside his lungs. “How're you doing, man?” His tail was wagging uncontrollably as he followed up his killer hug with an equally forceful handshake. Bill Grey was a powerful dog, and Fox was never sure if he didn't recognize his own strength, or just pretended not to for fun.

“I'd be doing better if you weren't crushing my hand”, Fox said with a mischievous grin, eliciting another bark of laughter from his academy wingmate.

“Hey, Fox”, a sharper, lighter voice edged in. Fox shook Katt's hand a little less enthusiastically than Bill's – they'd worked together in the past, but Katt Monroe was always closer to Falco than anyone else. Her eyes glinted in the light of the club as she took in their surroundings, particularly the trapeze act above them. “Classy place for a party”, she said with a toothy, cutting smile.

Fox winced a little, unsure how to say he wasn't a fan of it without offending Falco. Katt must've caught onto his dilemma, as she laughed – it carried the same blade-like quality of her smile. “I won't hold you accountable for birdie's taste”, she said with a sly wink.

“And what's wrong with my taste, huh?” Falco eyed Katt challengingly. “You want to say something about it, Katt?”

“Oh, I think there are a lot of things I could say about it.” She approached Falco in a way not dissimilar to how ancient felines stalked their avian prey, and poked him right in the chest. Fox didn't miss how she gave it a little caress as she dragged a clawed finger upward and around the golden chain hanging around his neck – before swiftly yanking on it and eliciting an indignant, high-pitched sound of surprise. She laughed almost cruelly at the now-thoroughly-flustered bird before thoughtlessly yanking a chair away from a nearby table and shoving it between Wolf and Panther, perching herself on it like it was a throne.

“So, Slippy!”, Bill shouted again. His permanent outdoor voice was working to his benefit in the din of the club. “Congrats, man! I always knew you had it in you.”

Slippy smiled and blushed. “Thanks, Bill. I – uh – always knew I had it in me too, I guess.”

Bill didn't bother taking a seat, opting instead to stand next to (and over) Slippy. “You're going to love it. And hate it.” The canine grinned. “Oh, just you wait until you get a parcel of little ones. It's an absolute trial, but it's so worth it.” He looked suddenly thoughtful. “I think Liv's probably getting a little tired though. We're probably going to stop at number eight, I think.”

Slippy looked queasy at the thought of having eight children.

“Oh, where are my manners!?”, Bill asked no one in particular, slapping his forehead with his paw. He grinned eagerly and thrust his arm forward at Wolf. “Name's Bill Grey. I've heard plenty about you, O'Donnell!”

A split-second passed before Wolf reached his own paw towards Bill's, shaking it roughly. “Can't say the same about you.”

Fox cringed, but Bill took it in stride, laughing all the louder. “Oh, is Fox keeping his old academy hijinks a secret from his lover?”

“What hijinks?”, Fox asked sullenly under his breath, simultaneously embarrassed and proud of Bill referring to Wolf as his lover. Bill Grey was Fox's best (and virtually only) friend while he attended the academy; and the boisterous dog of indeterminate breed was solely responsible for that relationship, seeing as Fox tried so hard to keep to himself that he chased most people away.

But not Bill – the sturdy canine saw Fox's attempts to wall himself off from everyone else as a challenge to be overcome. Bill kept Fox at least somewhat anchored to the outside world during those days, dragging him to parties and other social gatherings. Fox never enjoyed himself at any of them, but he enjoyed the intent behind them. Bill did what he could to keep Fox's mind away from wallowing in his father's death – and sometimes, it even worked.

They'd gone their separate ways eventually, Bill joining the Cornerian Navy (and swiftly rising through the ranks, heading his own flight unit at a much earlier age than normal) while Fox teamed up with Peppy to reform Star Fox – but they always kept in touch with each other, even if communication was sometimes rare.

The big dog waved his paw dismissively. “Oh, I could think of something if I thought on it long enough.” He turned his attention to Panther. “I'm afraid I don't know you, though. Relative of Katt?”

Panther's eyes narrowed, and Katt laughed. “Do you assume all felines are related?”, Panther asked cautiously.

Bill just shrugged. “Not really.” Instantly distracted and apparently done talking to the cats, he shook Falco's hand. “And here's the man responsible for this shindig! How's it going, Falco?”

The avian seemed pleased that someone finally appreciated his efforts. “It's going great, man. Got us primo seats and everything.”

Bill barked another laugh. “Oh man, Liv would be pissed if she knew where I was.” He glanced upwards not-unabashedly, and had the grace to look at least a little guilty. He turned his gaze back to Slippy. “Your squeeze know you're here? I mean, she's got to – bachelor party and all.”

Slippy suddenly went pale as he realized the implication of Bill's words. “Oh no”, he all-but whispered.

The waitress returned, and didn't even say a word as she frankly deposited their drinks on the table and walked away, obviously still annoyed by their earlier exchange. Katt folded her arms as she realized no one was going to get a drink for her. She stalked off towards the bar with that grace endemic to felines, and Falco followed her a second later – and Panther after that.

“So how're you guys holding up?”, Bill asked the remnants of the party at the table.

Fox shrugged. “Can't complain. Still in business, and all.” He smiled a little shamefacedly. “Though that's probably a bad thing, come to think of it.”

Bill laughed again, and even Wolf had to fight to keep himself from at least half-grinning. Fox knew the stocky canine had an almost preternatural ability to win anyone over, given enough time – Wolf's iron carapace would have to crack sooner or later.

Slippy was texting someone furiously, but stashed his comm-device away when he realized he was being addressed. “Oh, I'm – I'm okay, I guess.” He gulped. “I'm getting married.” He stopped as he realized they all knew this.

A beat passed, and Bill turned to Wolf. “And you?”

The lupine leaned back in his seat. “Well, I'm fucking your old schoolbuddy on the regular – which is going pretty well, if I do say so myself.”

The rest of them went dead silent. Fox sat there for a second, mortified, before Bill let out another round of raucous laughter.

“Oh man”, he said as it subsided. “You two are perfect for each other. Don't give me that look, O'Donnell”, Bill said at Wolf's glare. “I put up with Fox trying his darnedest to alienate everyone for four freaking years – that shit's not going to work on me.” He grinned. “You captains and your drama queen defense mechanisms, I swear.”

Caught flat-footed by Bill's comment, it took Wolf a little while to respond. “Aren't you a captain, too, dogbreath?” The chiding remark was less aggressive in tone than Fox was expecting; more playful.

Bill shook his head. “I'm a commander, man. Makes all the difference in the world.” He grabbed Panther's unattended drink and toasted Wolf with it, before downing almost all of it in one go.

Wolf glanced at Fox. The vulpine cocked his head near-imperceptibly to the side in question, and Wolf responded with an equally blink-and-you'll-miss-it nod. Bill had apparently won his approval. Fox smiled victoriously and took a gulp of his own drink.

….......

Krystal watched the proceedings with a sort of detached amusement.

“Beth”, Amanda said sufferingly. “I'm not eating that.” She pointed at the cloaca-shaped cake sitting on the table. Krystal read a combination of amusement and slight disgust from the fuchsia toad – and triumph from the alarmingly yellow salamander, staring down her fellow amphibian with lidded eyes.

“You can, and you will”, Beth said – and she was dead serious about it, as Krystal could tell.

The vixen just rolled her eyes and took another sip of her rosé; imported from the one of the finest vineyards on Fortuna, according to Amanda's mother. She personally thought it was a little odd to invite one of your parents to a bachelorette party – but then again, up until Beth rolled out the genitalia-shaped dessert item, it wasn't exactly a rowdy gathering.

In truth, Krystal was enjoying herself. She and Lucy were still chatting, the lagomorph catching her up on the latest developments on the Meteo project (they'd managed to siphon a little bit of energy from the artificial star – a real breakthrough, according to the rabbit, though Krystal didn't know enough about astrophysics to be sure). It almost pivoted into a conversation about Andross's old base and the Cerinian prisoner before the two women stopped themselves, realizing that openly discussing top-secret matters in mixed company might not be a good idea.

Krystal certainly didn't distrust Amanda's friends – their emotional patterns showed no sign of duplicity or conniving – but she definitely didn't trust their ability to keep their mouths shut, especially under the influence of large quantities of alcohol. She didn't need any telepathic abilities to figure that one out: all three of them had accidentally spouted out at least one embarrassing secret about one of the others over the course of the last two hours.

The vixen was drawn away from her introspection by a wave of surprise emanating from Amanda. The toad was looking down at her comm-device, and Krystal sensed equal parts disbelief, indignation, and mischievous glee. “Oh my God”, she pronounced to no one and everyone. “The guys are at a strip club.”

Similar thought patterns to Amanda's rang out across the room, filling the upscale space with a sort of performed annoyance undercut with incredulity and excitement. Everyone was gasping, and one of Amanda's friends (Marie, Krystal thought) even said “No!”, but Krystal could sense the universal thrill from all around her. This stark juxtaposition between action and internal belief was something the vixen was used to at this point – it was obvious that everyone was secretly delighted by the fact the men were caught doing something harmlessly naughty, and acting up their displeasure as if part of an unspoken social game.

“How lurid!”, the Granota matriarch said with a hand to her chest, every bit as excited by the turn of events as everyone else.

“Well”, Beth pronounced, voice rising up above the others. “You know what this means, don't you?”

Krystal knew exactly where she was going with this line of thought, but remained silent.

Amanda must have caught on to. “Beth – please don't say what I think you're going to say”. Krystal sensed Amanda very much wanted Beth to say what she was going to say.

The salamander's smile curled into a frankly evil grin. “We need to hire some entertainment of our own.”

More gasps and giggles echoed through the room, on top of a “Heavens!” from Amanda's mother. The only one present whose emotional state didn't seem to waver at all was Fay, whose mental presence remained almost disturbingly stable regardless of any circumstances. Krystal and Lucy made eye contact, and had to keep from laughing themselves.

Amanda shook her head, barely able to hide the delinquent elation from her expression. “If this is happening, you're in charge of selecting the entertainment. I wash my hands of this.”

“Oh no”, Beth said, backed up by Amanda's other friends. “You're not getting out of this. Your man's out there ogling some go-go dancers as we speak. You need to get revenge!”

The pink frog lifted her hands to stop her friends from cheering Beth on. “Fine. But I'm picking literally the cheapest stripper I can find.”

“Now, dear”, Mrs. Granota said with a very reasonable tone of voice. “You don't have to settle for cheap. I'm sure we can find someone more professional for a higher fee.” The older amphibian was doing a poor job of hiding her desire, Krystal thought.

“No, mom”, Amanda said with a smile. “We're going for a bargain here.”

Krystal finally spoke up. “Honestly, the cheaper he is, the more entertaining the show will be.” The words were out of her mouth before she thought them over – clearly she wasn't any more immune to the effects of her drinks than anyone else. Her pronouncement was met with squeals and giggles from the others.

“Yes!”, Lana the pigeon said. “Let's get a really bad one!”

They all started laughing, including Krystal and Lucy, and Amanda smiled with a certain amount of chagrin. “Alright”, she agreed, to a chorus of cheers. “I'll order the lowest-rated stripper I can find.”

Krystal rolled her eyes and relaxed back in her seat, decidedly not taking part in helping with this particular choice.

“So”, Lucy spoke up, now that everyone else was distracted. “How are things, really?”

The vixen took a moment to collect her thoughts. “They could be worse”, she responded, fully aware of what a non-answer it was. By Lucy's emotional patterns and expression, Krystal knew that response wasn't going to fly.

She waited a moment before continuing. “I don't know what I want to do with my life”, Krystal elaborated.

Lucy smiled sympathetically. “So nothing too big, then?”

Krystal snorted, thankful she wasn't drinking anything at that second. “Oh, no – just the usual identity crisis, I suppose.” She absently swirled the contents of her glass around. “I thought I was still hung up over Fox, but I'm starting to realize what I'm really hung up on is what he represents. He's been the anchor to my whole life in Lylat, and I'm afraid of letting that go.” She remained silent for a second, and looked back at Lucy. “I've just had a breakthrough helped along by a very heavy mixed drink. I hope you realize how important this is to me.”

This time they both laughed, unable to stop themselves from getting louder with each second, until they even managed to get the attention of the rest of the party. “Will you be quiet!?”, Beth demanded. “We're trying to work over here!”

Amanda chastised her, and Lucy gave a small roll of her eyes before speaking again. “So – you really think Star Fox is going to close shop?”

Krystal thought on it for a beat. “Yes”, she answered before taking another liberal sip, savoring the burning citrus flavor as it burst on her tongue. “But even if it wasn't, I need to move on.”

Lucy nodded. “You ever need work, I can hook you up with something. We can always use more janitorial staff on the station.”

Krystal was offended for all of a split-second before she realized the rabbit was joking. She playfully punched her in the arm.

“We've got it!”, Amanda shouted. “The 'King of the Ocean' is officially on his way!”

“And what a steal”, one of her friends said, earning another round of laughter.

Krystal rose her drink in salute and tossed the rest of it down.

….......

“The only part of him they were able to find after the crash was a finger”, the feline said with a borderline-savagely pleased tone of voice, downing another shot of a local neon green rum. “So I'd say he learned his lesson about picking fights with pilots well above his pay-grade.”

Fox chuckled politely, trying to mask his disturbance at Katt's cavalier attitude about killing pirates and shady mercs, even if they were objectively terrible people. She'd made a name for herself over the years as a notably vindictive fighter, and often took contracts from people Fox would never consider allying with.

He was never a hundred percent sure what to make of her, if he was being honest with himself; she never fully crossed that line into outright criminal work like Star Wolf did, but she tended to ride it as close as feasibly possible. Falco had known her before he put aside his own life as a gang member to join Star Fox – what that implied about their history, Fox couldn't say for certain. All he knew was that Katt had a tendency to raise his hackles in a way neither Wolf or Panther did; though he tried to stop himself from feeling that way for Falco's sake.

Both of them looked back at the rest of their party, getting increasingly louder by the minute – the influence of heavy liquor was working wonders to integrate Bill into the group, and it wasn't long before he was laughing along with some dumb story Panther was telling. Even Slippy looked engaged, Falco with an arm around his shoulder and all-but keeling over with laughter.

“So how about you, Foxy-boy?”, she addressed the vulpine. “Any exciting encounters lately? I heard you were all mixed up in that Titania mess.” Her lidded, shadowed eyes made contact with his own, and she smiled haughtily. “I'd love to hear a first-hand account.”

He shrugged in what he hoped was a disarming fashion. “Not much more to say about it than what you probably already know.” He had no idea if that was true or not, but he wasn't about to talk about it with someone he didn't trust all that much.

Katt laughed again – it wasn't an out-and-out cruel-sounding laugh, but it was close. “Oh, I doubt that very much.” Her sharp teeth glinted under the club's lights. “You military types are just no fun – Falco won't tell me anything either.”

Fox felt a surge of pride for his comrade; the avian had a record of lapsing his judgment where Katt was concerned, so it was good to know he realized telling someone as close to the underworld as Katt the fine details of what went down on Titania (and by extension Fichina) was a bad idea. “Well, it's all classified, so we really can't say anything, you know?”

The feline continued to stare at him – her expression changed almost imperceptibly, but Fox saw it. The slip of a carefully curated mask to reveal the real animal beneath. Her sharp, vicious façade fell, for just a second, revealing a glimpse of vulnerability in her gaze.

And just as suddenly, it was gone, and the Katt he'd always known returned. “Suit yourself”, she said with a careless shrug – though now Fox wondered if it really was careless, or just intended to come across as such. “You boys and your secrets. And they say women are hard to read.” Another toothy grin came his way.

Fox chuckled honestly this time. “I'll say that, and stand by it.”

She smiled, a little less violently. Fox was struck with a sudden realization about Katt – a sense that he might have misjudged her. He started going through the facts in his head. The feline's connections to the underworld; her strangely flirty rivalry with Falco; her use of a dangerous social mask to hide her true feelings; and, most importantly, her conviction to do the right thing when the cards were on the table.

It all reminded him of a certain lupine.

Fox grinned to himself, and Katt shot him a cutting look. “What's that expression about?”

“Nothing”, he shook his head, further smiling at how similar her indignant tone of voice sounded to Wolf's. “Why do you want to know about Titania anyway?”

She paused for a second, and finally shrugged. “To be honest, I don't.” Fox was enough of an expert in dealing with people like Katt at this point that he could spot a lie as easily as an asteroid headed straight for his Arwing, but he didn't press further.

The sound of Falco squawking brought their attention back to the party table – it looked like someone had just upended an icy drink over the avian's head, and both Wolf and Panther were claiming ignorance. Fox saw the devilish glint in Bill's eye and realized what happened.

Katt chuckled. “Let's get back to actually having fun, shall we?”

Fox sighed, and smiled. “Sure.”

….......

“He's late.” Beth let the pronouncement settle on the assembled party-goers, as if they weren't already well aware of that fact. The salamander glanced at Krystal as if she was responsible for their entertainment's tardiness. True, the vixen had helped sway the odds in favor of intentionally picking a bad stripper, but Beth gave her too much credit. Krystal could hardly be blamed for someone else's lack of time management skills.

“It's fine”, Amanda reassured them. The toad half-smiled. “To be honest, I'm not really going to be too upset if he doesn't show up.”

“But Slippy!”, Beth said extremely loudly, drink sloshing in her hand. “Revenge!” Krystal couldn't help but laugh at the salamander's seriousness.

Amanda shook her head with a small smile. “I think the cycle of vengeance will work itself out, somehow.”

They were interrupted by a too-loud series of bangs on the hotel door, causing a widespread intake of breath from the room, followed by another round of excited giggles and laughs. Krystal glanced at Lucy; the rabbit was just as curious as she was, and they both held in their own laughter at Amanda's friends tripping over themselves to open the door.

When they finally did, a very familiar squat, orange toad stumbled into the room, swaying, wearing nothing but a fur cloak and a leopard-patterned thong.

“WHO AMONG YE HAS CALLED FOR THE SERVICES OF THE MIGHTY OCEAN KING HIMSELF!?”

The entire room went silent in disbelieving horror.

“Oh, hey, Grippy!”, Fay said congenially, oblivious to the expressions of everyone around her.

“WELL!?”, he shouted. “BY POSEIDON'S HOARY BEARD, I'D OUGHT TO GUT YE ALL LIKE GUPPERS FOR GAWKING AT ME WITH THOSE FACES!” He was clearly very, very drunk – Krystal had never sensed this level of inebriation from anyone before. She didn't know it was even possible. “YEH'VE CALLED FOR THE KING OF THE OCEAN, AND HE ASCENDS FROM THE DEPTHS TO ENTERTAIN YE WITH DELIGHTS UNTOLD. LOOK UPON HIM IN GRATEFUL PROSTRATION!”

He tossed the cloak aside in a practiced maneuver, and began gyrating his hips while sashaying across the room, causing the assembly to scream.

Krystal just continued to sit there, among the screams and psychic waves of intermingled disgust and confusion, somewhat transfixed by Grippy Toad's almost-hypnotic pelvic tilts. As the initial shock died down, the reactions slowly gave way to confused laughter, as the orange toad continued to dance around, oblivious to the fact no one was watching him with any kind of titillation.

Fay seemed to be enjoying herself, at least. Krystal didn't sense any sexual interest from her, but the white canine was clapping her paws in sync with Grippy's rhythm. “Yeah!”, she shouted, pumping her fist. “Work it!”

Amanda took a seat next to Krystal. “I should probably call Beltino and tell him we found his brother.” She looked at the vixen. “Maybe wait on telling Slippy, though? He's having a bit of a rough time as it is, and I think this would just add more stress to his plate.”

Krystal glanced back at Grippy, now in the midst of what was probably supposed to be the worm, but instead was coming out as him just sort of flopping around on the carpet. “That's probably a good idea.” Krystal turned back to her – Amanda really did make a good counterpoint to Slippy, the more she thought of it. How many animals would react to this situation with such collected calmness and tactful understanding of their partner? “This was a very enjoyable party, by the way”, Krystal continued.

The fuschia toad looked at her a little disbelievingly. “Really?”

“Yes”, Krystal answered. “Bear in mind, I'm also a little drunk, so that might be affecting my perception.”

Lucy laughed at that. “Krystal”, the rabbit said. “If you're not a little drunk, you're not doing parties right.”

In that moment, with Grippy now catatonic on the floor and Fay draping a blanket over him, the vixen believed her.

….......

Fox savored the cool salt-air, thankful as all get-out to be rid of the club's interior for a moment. The sights and sounds were oppressive enough in their bombardment, but it was really the smell that made Fox thankful for the breather. So many animals exuding so many pheromones in so contained a space – it was enough to drive anyone with a keen sense of smell insane. The clear salinity of the air outside felt like a cleanser for his poor, assaulted nostrils.

He was only one a few animals out here, overlooking the city. A pair of wolves were sitting close together in the corner, sharing a cigarette. The female was clearly an employee on break, her shimmering bikini partially covered by a utilitarian jacket. Her partner sat across from her – he looked tired. Fox idly wondered if they were together, co-workers, or something else. They could've been anything, really.

The vulpine shook his head to clear his thoughts. He hadn't had that much to drink, but it must have affected him at least a little bit to be taken on a mental tangent by seeing two animals just sitting together. He refocused on the real reason he came out here: the green toad all by his lonesome, arms crossed on the balcony's railing, staring out into the sea. He'd gone missing twenty minutes ago, and Fox took it upon himself to hunt him down.

He approached Slippy quietly enough to be respectful, but not so quietly as to go unheard. He knew his teammate must have heard him, but he spoke up anyway. “Hey”, he said calmly. “You alright out here?”

Slippy turned, face half-lit by the city's lights. He was smiling, if a little weakly. “Yeah – I just needed a break.”

Fox chuckled and stepped forward to stand next to him, crossing his arms and leaning on the railing himself. “I hear you on that one. I never knew ibexes smelled that bad after several drinks.” Slippy grinned a little at the comment, but said nothing, so Fox continued. “But I know that's not why you're out here.”

His teammate stayed silent, but Fox said nothing. He knew Slippy had to be the one to talk here, not him.

“...I just get, you know... a little overstimulated, I guess. With stuff like this.” He gestured to the entirety of the city below them.

Fox nodded. “I know. You're not a party person.” He turned slightly to face his teammate. “But I also know you well enough to know that's not all there is to it.”

Another moment of silence between them passed, interrupted by the sound of traffic and waves.

“...I'm scared”, Slippy finally said, so quiet it was almost a whisper.

A gust of salt-breeze ruffled Fox's fur. “Do you want to talk about why?”, he asked, only a little louder than the amphibian himself.

“I, just...” He trailed off.

Fox placed his paw on his shoulder. “Take your time.”

And Slippy did. A few moments passed before he summed up the courage to speak up.

“I've never done this before, Fox. Married someone. I mean, of course you know that, because you would've known if I'd been married and divorced, because we've been living together for so long, so it'd be really hard to –”

  
“Slippy”, Fox interrupted with a grin. “Calm down. I know you're not a divorcée.”

Slippy took a calming breath. “Thanks, Fox. I-I need people to stop my from going off like that sometimes.” He looked back at the city, and the waves beyond. “...But not with Amanda. I don't stutter with her. I don't t-trip over my words, or get confused, or get...” He groaned. “It's hard to put into words.”

“You love her”, Fox helped him out.

“Yes”, Slippy replied without hesitation. “More than anyone.”

“Even your parents?”, Fox joked, instantly regretting it as Slippy paled. “Slippy, I was kidding around. It's not the same and I know it, and you know it.”

Slippy gulped. “Yeah. But see that? Amanda could've said that and it wouldn't have made me... do that.”

Fox smiled. “I'm really glad for you, Slippy.”

The toad grinned a little abashedly. “Thanks, Fox.” He twiddled his thumbs. “...It's not the 'living with Amanda' part that's scaring me, though. It's the, you know...” Small tears started to bubble at the corners of his eyes “'Not living with you guys' part. I've...” Fox gripped a little harder on Slippy's shoulder as he began to cry in earnest. “I've never not, you know? And I know w-we'll still talk all the time, but...”

“But it won't be the same”, Fox finished.

“Yeah”, Slippy added.

Fox waited for a beat before continuing. “You do realize you're going to have to work to keep me and the others from showing up at your place constantly, right?”

“Don't say that”, Slippy said.

“It's true!”, Fox continued. “We're going to be those guests who show up so much they start to become a burden.”

Slippy laughed, a sense of buoyancy returning to his voice. “You'd have to be really terrible to make that happen.”

Fox raised a single brow. “Are you doubting Wolf's ability to make that happen?”

Slippy actually let out a belly-laugh at that one. “Okay, yeah. Maybe. But even so, Fox, I want you guys to pester us. I know Amanda wants it too.”

“And we will”, Fox said with conviction. “Once a member of Star Fox, always a member of Star Fox, even if you're retired.”

“Don't say that”, Slippy said with a small grimace. “You make me sound like an old man.”

“Bet you'll be an 'old man' soon enough, regardless.”

Slippy blushed, but didn't look too unhappy at the idea. “Maybe. Not too soon, though.”

They stood like that on the balcony for another few minutes in amicable silence before Slippy spoke up again. “...I should probably head back to my own party.”

Fox grinned a little embarrassedly. “Yeah... sorry about that, again. I still feel like an idiot for not thinking about it.”

Slippy gave a weird sort of half-smile, half-grimace. “Well...”, he started. “I didn't actually want one, you know?” At Fox's confusion, he continued. “I would have asked you if I wanted a bachelor party, Fox. You didn't do anything wrong. Falco just got sort of... carried away.”

The vulpine paused, and sighed. “Yeah”, he said somewhat defeatedly. “Yeah, in retrospect I should've realized that from the get-go.”

“...It's not a bad party, though, is it?”, Slippy asked. At Fox's mixed expression, the amphibian smiled. “I mean, it kind of is – but that's what makes it good though, right?”

Fox shrugged, genuinely unsure. “I guess it's a matter of philosophy.”

The two animals made their way back into the club, and Fox felt a bittersweet pang of emotion as they went to rejoin the others.

No matter what happened, Slippy would always be his teammate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well it's been a minute. Suffice to say, it's been very hard to squeeze some free time to write lately! Thanks for kudos and comments as always, criticism is welcome, and I update my progress semi-regularly on twitter! Hopefully things will start moving a little faster soon.


	11. Chapter 11

# XI

Peppy stood stalwart, doing his best to ignore the media frenzy taking place just thirty feet away from him, beyond the security cordon. Holo-cameras, reporters, and news agency aircraft were packed to a man on the landing platform, all trying to get the best angle on the Prime Minister's imminent arrival on Aquas. Peppy tried to tune out their chatter, cursing the sensitivity of his species' auditory canals.

He was beginning to wonder if he should have invested in earplugs when Hart's private shuttle broke the atmosphere – the deer was exempt from having to follow Aquas' strict entry policy, for obvious reasons. No one wanted the PM flying in with a bunch of random tourists.

“_Bout time_”, Hugin grumbled from off to his right, eyeing the descending craft with a combination of irritation and wariness. The raven was even more irascible than usual, and Peppy couldn't blame him – not after the news they'd both been briefed on about ten minutes ago. He knew Hart wouldn't know yet; his shuttle went off-the-grid during transit.

“Make sure not to give Hart that look when he lands”, Peppy instructed the raven without turning to look at him.

“_What_ look?”, Hugin demanded.

“The one you're making right now”, Peppy responded calmly.

Hugin didn't have a chance to argue back, as Hart's shuttle landed on the platform, graceful wings folding up vertically to allow it room to do so. Peppy was buffeted by the gust from the spaceship's descent, but stood just as straight as ever – though he saw a few of the journalists recoil off to the side of the cordon. The shuttle's ramp descended after the landing gear were fully engaged, and Minister Hart disembarked shortly thereafter, surrounded by a sizeable contingent of security personnel and aides.

“General Peppy”, the cervine greeted him with an extended hand. “Good to see you again, so soon.”

“Minister”, Peppy responded as he grasped Hart's hand with his own paw. “I'm sorry to cut the pleasantries short, but we have a situation.”

Hart let the hare's paw go with a wry smile. “I'm sure it can wait, General. At least let me set foot on the planet's soil first.”

“The Octovarian fleet's mobilizing”, Hugin stated flatly, even less patient than Peppy was to get to business. The hare was extremely grateful for the sound of the crowd and engines covering their conversation from the media outlets surrounding them. The last thing they needed was for _that_ to go public before they were ready to deal with the fallout.

The deer's suave, collected affect suddenly disappeared, replaced by one of cold efficiency. “Status?”

“We've already sent two capital-class cruisers and a handful of frigates which happened to be nearby to the front”, Peppy quickly responded. “Three additional fleets are on immediate standby to make the jump if necessary, and the rest of the Navy's in the process of mobilizing.” He let the information settle for a second before continuing. “We don't know if they're actually planning on attacking, but we're not going to let them just waltz in if they do.”

“We should strike them now”, Hugin implored, directing his plea at the minister, despite the fact Peppy was in charge of the Navy and was standing right there. “Before they're ready to invade. If we shatter their front, they'll scatter like roaches.”

Peppy frowned. It was highly unusual for someone outside the Navy to suggest its use to the PM – some would say it showed a lack of decorum. While the Prime Minister superseded Peppy on the chain of command, it was traditional to let the General be the driving voice in matters of war.

But then again, Hugin never really cared whose toes he stepped on, and often thought of himself as equally in charge of the Navy as Peppy – and perhaps, even worse than all of that, was the fact the raven might be right.

Peppy didn't want to take a course of action that would lead to war, but it seemed pretty damn obvious that it was upon them no matter _what_ they did. All of their attempts to communicate with the Octovarian fleet had fallen flat, with the Mercenaries either laughing them off or openly threatening them. If he was being honest with himself, launching a massive surprise attack on them now wasn't a bad idea, even if he didn't like Hugin trying to get around him to get it done.

He was about to tell Hart as much when the cervine spoke up. “I think not”, he stated calmly. “Trying to goad us into attacking them might be their aim.”

Hugin sputtered, and Peppy spoke. “Minister Hart, with all due respect: even if that _is_ what they want, I'm confident we could overrun them regardless.” At Hart's raised brow, he continued. “At the end of the day, they're still just a mercenary fleet. They don't have a unified structure like our Navy. If we attack them, they won't be able to mount an effective defense – but if we wait for them to attack _us_, they could do a lot of damage to nearby systems, especially since their specialty is in raiding rather than open conflict.” He took a deep breath, trying not to feel sickly and tired at the thought of suggesting an attack – he'd really been hoping he'd be able to live the rest of his life without going through another war. “If they break our lines and get into Lylat space, it won't be a battle between two armies – it'll be lean, efficient Octovarian merc units striking civilian targets and pillaging at random. It'll be a catastrophe, and a real nightmare to clean up.”

Both Hugin and Hart went silent for a moment. To his surprise, Peppy found Hugin looking at him with, well, not a _pleased_ expression by any stretch of the imagination; but he gave Peppy a look that could only be described as one of respect.

Hart, however, eyed Peppy cautiously. “...I'll take your counsel into account, General Peppy. But for now, I think defensive measures will be appropriate enough.” The cervine smiled a little haughtily. “Rest assured, I won't allow your nightmare scenario to come to pass. Now”, he began to walk past the hare and raven. “I need to begin preparations for meeting with Bowman.”

Peppy took the change-of-topic in stride, while Hugin just narrowed his eyes in confusion and shook his head. “When do you plan on talking with him?”, Peppy asked as he walked alongside the taller mammal. “Venom is the closest planet to the mercenary fleet – I'm sure he knows they're mobilizing too. The sooner we get this business with him all squared away, the sooner we can we can work together to stop them.” Peppy made sure to phrase his words in the plural, even though he knew it was really up to Hart what happened.

“I agree”, Hart stated conversationally. “Bowman has the most to lose if the worst comes to pass. Venom will be hit first, and hardest.”

They continued to walk in silence for another moment, the sounds of the media outside dissipating as they entered a dimly-lit hallway, security forces in front of and behind them, giving them plenty of space to speak. “So”, Peppy spoke up again. “You'll be meeting with him now, then, I take it?”

Hart smiled his usual, refined smile. “No – not until after the wedding, I believe.”

Another beat, and Peppy fought down his growing unease. He refused to believe what he was quickly realizing to be true, willing anything else to be the case. “Minister... this is a matter of System _security_. With all deference... this _really_ can't wait.” At Hart's lack of response, he continued. “Slippy'll be well fine if you're a little late, sir. I promise you, no one understands putting Lylat over their personal life like the members of Star Fox.”

Hart turned to him with a vaguely challenging expression. “Are you included yourself in that, Peppy?”

The hare remained silent, internally warring between wanting to bow his head respectfully, cowed by Hart's chastisement, and starting a full-on shouting match then and there in the hallway, consequences be damned.

“Are you suggesting you understand sacrifice more than I do?”, Hart continued. “That you know what's better for Lylat?” He stopped then, and eyed Peppy like he was a speck of dirt on his boots. The lagomorph met his eyes with a challenging look of his own, fully aware of what a hypocrite this made him after thinking so negatively of Hugin for the raven's own disrespect for authority.

“No, minister”, Peppy stated calmly – and it was the truth. “I don't think that at all. But I _do_ think what you're doing is incredibly irresponsible.”

“And what is that – _exactly_ – Peppy?”, the cervine asked cuttingly.

Peppy tilted his chin up. “Holding the Octovarian fleet over Dash's head like a threatening bludgeon”, he responded. “You know he'll be likelier to make concessions and let Corneria micro-manage his militia if he thinks the alternative is having his people suffer at the hands of an invading force.” The hare couldn't keep the cold glare from his eyes. “You're _letting_ Octovar mobilize, when we could easily take 'em all out right now, to put pressure on Venom.”

Hart shrugged languidly. “An opportunity presented itself, and I'm simply taking advantage of it.” He smiled graciously. “Dash gets his army and brings Venom back into the fold; the S&Ss get a firmer grip on Venom because they'll be partially in charge of the army; and we take out the Octovarian rabble. Everyone's happy – everyone wins.”

“_If_”, Peppy all-but spat, “the 'rabble' doesn't attack us before you even get a chance to pull this off.”

“A calculated risk, like all in politics”, Hart rattled off without a thought. “Tell me, Peppy – how else would you end the threat of Venom attacking Corneria, Corneria attacking Venom, and Octovar attacking Lylat all in one blow?” The deer shook his head. “If you're not willing to get a little muddy, you shouldn't be playing in the rain. This conversation's over.”

Peppy nodded, agreeing with that much, at least. He didn't talk back at the minister as he continued to walk down the hall, opting to wait for Hugin and the rest to catch up with him.

“So?”, the irate raven asked as he sidled up.

Peppy sighed.

“I need to talk to Dash.”

….......

Slippy adjusted his bow tie again – though at this point, Fox guessed it was more of a nervous, fumbling quirk than any actual attempt to make himself look more presentable. The toad had managed to negotiate a compromise on the traditional nature of the ceremony on account of his being Cornerian; while Amanda would be wearing colorful local garb, Slippy would be dressed in a very respectable, decidedly not laced-with-fruit tuxedo.

The vulpine was feeling plenty nervous himself, constantly shuffling his paws in and out of his pockets, messing around with his cufflinks. He tried to put on a calm expression to keep Slippy's mind at ease, but his own thoughts kept drifting back to the altar he'd be standing by in... a little under a half-hour, according to his chronometer. He took a deep breath and drew his fingers across his head. This was _nerve-wracking_.

And if this was how he felt, he didn't even want to guess how Slippy was holding up.

“Here”, Falco said brusquely, shoving a flask of something that smelled extremely alcoholic into his paws.

Fox let out a nervous laugh. “Seriously?”

The avian nodded. “You keep giving off antsy vibes and I'm going to go ballistic. Take a drink and calm the fuck down.” He turned to look at Slippy. “You too, Slips. Take a load off.”

Slippy gulped. “G-Gee, I don't know...”

Fox had already downed a healthy portion during their short exchange without even thinking about it. He handed the flask to Slippy wordlessly, and after a moment of hesitation, the toad similarly took a hefty gulp.

Slippy shivered and wiped his mouth. “Thanks, Falco.”

Said avian took the flask back from Slippy and proceeded to down the rest of it, letting out a contented sigh afterwards. “Don't mention it.”

The trio stood there in a somewhat skittish fashion. It was obvious to Fox that all three of them wanted to talk, but nobody knew what to say, or even to be the one to go first; so Fox decided to take the plunge. The words were out before he even thought about what they were going to be.

“...Remember the time with that rogue mercenary unit, back on Katina?” He didn't even know where he was going with this line of thought – he just needed to talk about something, anything.

His teammates were taken aback for a second, but Falco responded. “Yeah, I think... You mean the one with the crocodile captain?”

“Yeah”, Fox nodded. “Do you remember what he said when we downed his cargo fleet?”

Falco chuckled. “I'll never forget it. '_You blew all my ships away, so now I'll blow you all!_'” He mimicked a raspy tone of voice that only roughly approximated the crocodile's. “Dumb fuck. His whole crew went quiet after that, right?”

Slippy smiled despite himself. “Not quite. One of them said something like '_Yeah, captain! Blow them!_'”

“Yeah!”, Falco said, gesticulating with his arms. “Squeaky-sounding dude. Probably a rodent.”

Fox shook his head and laughed. “You can't guess someone's species just by their voice, Falco.”

“Whatever”, the bird dismissed.

“What were they even doing there in the first place?”, Slippy queried, eyes narrowed in thought. “I remember us getting the call, and I remember chasing them around the planet for a bit...”

Fox tapped his chin. “Smuggling... weapons? Drugs? Something like that – I can't remember.” He let his paw go and smiled laxly. “Bad choice of planet, though. That was what stuck out to me, besides the accidental entendre. Why would you ever run an op like that so close to the core worlds?”

Falco huffed. “Why do idiots do _anything_ they do?”

The vulpine shrugged. “Fair point.”

Slippy's eyes lit up and he raised a finger. “Lumber!” At his teammate's befuddled expressions, he continued. “They were smuggling lumber, I definitely remember that. It stuck out because it was so unusual.”

A look of mild realization started to dawn on Falco's face. “Oh yeah... Yeah, they _were_ smuggling wood. Out of Fortuna, I think?” He shook his head in disbelief. “What a stupid plan.”

“Maybe not”, Fox chimed in. “It's such an innocuous thing, most people probably wouldn't notice. If Bill hadn't tipped us off, they probably would've kept it up for a while. Fortunan hardwood is such a hot commodity.”

“Stupid”, Falco spat. “Who the fuck wants to pay so much for wood? It's just wood. What, they don't have trees on Katina?”

“But Fortunan hardwood is almost permanently nondegradable”, Slippy said. “It's very eco-friendly too, since it's a natural insulator and doesn't require manufacturing, or chemicals, or anything.”

Falco rolled his eyes. “Yeah, okay, science-boy. Tell me how chopping down a bunch of trees is 'eco-friendly'”. He punctuated his remark with air-quotes.

“Well”, Slippy started, putting on what Fox could only think of as his 'professor persona'. “They only harvest it from specially-designated tree farms, so it's not like they're randomly chopping down the planet. That's part of why it's so hard to come by: the variety of trees that yield it can only grow on Fortunan soil – as no one's been able to replicate the exact biocomposite that makes up Fortuna's crust in a laboratory setting – and since only so much of the planet is set aside for the farms, the wood is always in short supply-”

“Okay, okay – _I get it_”, Falco all-but groaned. “I was making a point. I didn't want to hear the entire history of... of tree-farming on, fucking _Fortuna_ or whatever. Jesus.” At Fox's tinkling laughter, he turned to face the vulpine. “_What?_”, he demanded.

“Just you two”, he answered. He was feeling a particularly hard-to-place, bittersweet emotion at that moment, and feeling it something fierce. “...I'm going to miss this.”

Both of them looked at him with expressions that he guessed mirrored his own: somewhere between excited and anxious, joyous and broken – on the verge of laughter, and tears, at the same time. “Fox...”, Slippy managed to get out, before the latter got out; followed awkwardly by the former.

As Slippy simultaneously laughed and cried, Falco was unable to stop himself from joining in – much, _much_ louder than the toad himself, in fact.

“_I'm going to fucking miss you, you fucking piece of shit, know-it-all, nerd.._.” The avian continued to trail on, wailing, as he hugged Slippy in a vice grip.

Fox felt a few tears escape his own eyes, but he was smiling. He approached the two of them, and placed his a paw on both of their shoulders. They both turned to face him.

“Once a member of Star Fox...”, he said firmly.

Slippy and Falco both smiled, the latter making a sort of gross snorting noise as he sucked up some of the snot starting to trail down his beak. “_Always a member_”, they both finished.

“Damn straight.”

….......

“He didn't want to wear _this!?_”, Fay exclaimed in something approximating horror. “But it's so _pretty!_” The white canine appreciated the towering crown of bananas from several angles before placing it on her head, apparently pleased with the way it clashed against her otherwise respectful, elegant attire. When the wedding guests got the okay to _not _wear the local customary dress (something for which Wolf was very grateful), the potential outfits were collected and stocked back in the Granotas' storage rooms – Fay happened to watch them being shoved back there when she all-but demanded to try them on. The Granota matron was more than happy to let Fay pick something she fancied.

As far as Wolf was concerned, they were all hideous. “Yeah, can't imagine why”, he responded his teammate. “I'm sure Froggy-Boy would look downright fetching in that get-up.” He chuckled meanly to himself while Fay continued to admire herself in the mirror.

“What _are_ you wearing?”, Panther asked as he entered the suite's common space, already decked out in a very expensive-looking tuxedo.

“Something actually fashionable”, Fay shot back. “Unlike _some_ people, who don't know how to accessorize.”

That last bit was directed at Wolf. He had no compelling argument to make, so he just shrugged. It was true: he _didn't_ know how to accessorize. He also didn't really care to know.

“I was going to suggest we try not to draw too much attention to ourselves at the wedding”, Panther said with a somewhat subdued affect. “On account of our team's... _history_... with the Cornerian forces everywhere.” He glanced up at Fay's false fruit-laden headgear, which easily added another two feet to her height. “Though I imagine that plea is destined to fall on deaf ears.”

Wolf made a disbelieving expression and batted his paw. “Oh, who cares. If anyone was going to get all riled up about us, they'd have done it already. Besides,” He put on his smarmiest shit-eating grin. “We're heroes.”

“Yeah!”, Fay punctuated with a fist pump.

Panther stroked a single one of his whiskers, humming in thought. “Yesterday, I would've agreed with you. But today, Corneria's Prime Minister and his entire entourage are here.” He made careful eye contact with Wolf. “We may have friends within Corneria's military, but our reception among the civilian leadership tends to be...”

“...Shitty”, Wolf finished as the feline searched for an appropriate word.

“I was going to say 'frigid', but I suppose that works just as well”, Panther commented.

Fay frowned. “No one's ever treated me rudely for being in Star Wolf.”

Wolf and Panther eyed each other. As far as they both knew, it was true – but then again, no one associated Fay with the Star Wolf of the _past_, the only Star Wolf that existed for many in Lylat's government. Even Panther was usually able to skirt cold stares and vaguely threatening comments on account of his lack of involvement in the Lylat War; all he'd done was work with Star Wolf after the unit became a criminal enterprise.

No, Panther was looking out for Wolf here, not himself. His teammate was right – it'd been a while since Wolf last interacted with a non-military member of Corneria's government. Not since after the Aparoid War ended and he, Panther and Leon received medals of honor for their should-be-sacrifice. Some of the elected officials were genuinely thankful for their efforts, but just as many stared at Wolf with a deep mistrust written plainly in their expressions. That had been a very uncomfortable reception, and not one Wolf wanted to relive.

And yet, there was a strong chance he was about to relive it in a little under an hour.

“Cheer up, cap'n”, Fay said consolingly, smile still plastered on her face. “I'm sure it won't be _that_ bad.”

“...Yeah”, Wolf responded, a little less assured-sounding than he was hoping to project. “You two go on a while, I want to smarten up a bit more.”

Fay gave him a beaming salute, but Panther's look was more questioning. Wolf cocked his head in a sort of 'don't worry about it' manner, and the feline shrugged. His teammates left the suite, still bickering with each other about the presentability of her hat.

Wolf sighed through his nostrils as he heard the door shut behind them, only waiting another second before groping around in his bags for a bottle he knew was hidden inside a pair of sweatpants. Victorious in finding it, he wasted no time in screwing the cap off and taking a healthy-sized swig. It burned down his throat, and he was happy for the fiery feeling. Purgation through imbibition, or something.

He paced anxiously around the room, which suddenly felt too small for an animal like himself. He was in a rangy mood, brought down by the thought of having to interact with stuffed-up Cornerian delegates. The hard-asses in the Navy and LCI he could put up with. He got them – understood their language. He didn't _like_ them, but he could handle their presence with his usual combination of half-false bravado and lack of care. But politicians were a whole different ballgame, and one he felt very unequipped to play right now.

He downed another gulp and sat on the edge of the bed, the same one he'd been fucking Fox in for the last two nights now. But Fox wasn't here right now – best man duties, had to help Slippy not die of a panic attack before the big day. He _wished_ Fox was here though. Rather spend the whole day surrounding him, paws in his fur, tail curled around his abdomen, tight heat pressed around his cock. Needy voice and eyes begging him to keep moving.

He was surprised to see he'd downed half the battle. That wasn't good. This was hard stuff.

He checked his chronometer and saw he still had some more time, and the wedding was just a floor away. He chuckled to himself. He still had plenty of time to make it there. So he decided to spend it rummaging around in his brain, trying to fucking process everything that'd happened over the last few months, and failing. The minutes passed.

Wolf knew he wasn't going to drag Fox down into some kind of toxic vortex or anything anymore – the vulpine had talked him straight enough on that count. But Wolf still felt like he was doing something _wrong_ even being within Fox's orbit. Like Fox was some kind of blazing solar body, and Wolf was a mealy-mouthed parasite sucking at that light, hoping some of it would maybe – somehow – fill the hole inside. But it was never going to happen, because – as Wolf knew better than anyone – the hole had no bottom. He was in freefall all the time.

Fox's _fucking _promise kept haunting him. Because of course Fox would draw something like that out of him. No, that was wrong. Fox didn't draw it from him – Wolf gave it _willingly_, because how could he not when Fox asked? He was going to stick to it though. He wouldn't leave until it was time to leave.

_Oh fuck_, he thought, as that thought drew him from his stupor: it was time to leave. To the wedding.

He stumbled as he stood up, and made his way to the door, only swerving a little bit. He closed it quietly behind him as he entered the hallway, and made his way down to the reception hall, feeling like he was about to face a firing squad where all the bullets were subtle accusations.

Resigning himself to that fate, he headed down the stairs. Better to face the guns head-on then with your back to them, he supposed.

….......

Fox shook the pompous ox's hand, pretending to listen to him ramble on about all the good Star Fox had done for Lylat, and how Fox should _really_ come to visit his office next week so they could discuss the possibility of working together – for the system's good, of course, nothing to do with the fact the ox was running for reelection this autumn and the endorsement of a beloved hero like Fox McCloud would really help his campaign – though, really, it _would_ help him, if Fox was inclined to do so.

The vulpine thanked the congressman for his kind words and said he'd think about it (he never would), and stood in line while the _next_ blowhard legislator approached to make friendly. Fox was so used to this song and dance at this point, having done it for the last decade, that he was more than able to tune out their words and spend his time thinking about more important things.

Like why Wolf was skulking in the corner over there, leaning against the wall and shooting furtive glances in every direction.

Fox wanted nothing more than to get out of dodge and make his way to the lupine, but he knew he couldn't – the parade of politicians demanded his attention, all with wheedling offers of fancy luncheons and access to special state privileges. He couldn't even be present at an ostensibly private event like a wedding without them all coming out of the woodwork and acting like his closest friend. It stung, because he really wanted to be asking his _real_ closest friend why he looked so afraid, and if there was anything he could do about it.

He was broken out of his limbo state of vacant smiling and internal worrying when he realized Dash was next in line. “I hope you haven't accepted too many photo-op requests from this procession.” The ape's deadpan expression contrasted with the mischievous, laughing glint in his eyes.

Fox chuckled. “If by 'too many', you mean none, then sure.” He looked around for a second. “Where's Minister Mirno?”

He thought it was an innocent question, as he'd yet to see Dash without Mirno in tow over the last few days, but his old almost-teammate's expression turned pensive and subdued. “Talking with Peppy.” Dash cocked his head towards his left, and Fox followed its direction to see Peppy, Hugin and Mirno standing in a corner opposite from Wolf and speaking furtively. “We already discussed some _issues_ earlier, but I needed to break away and just... get some air, I suppose.”

Fox nodded slowly. “Anything I can do to help?”

Dash smiled with a sad, exhausted air. “Not unless you can convince Prime Minister Hart to put his people over his politics.” He started walking away, presumably to take his seat, leaving Fox confused by that statement. “We can talk more later. For now, let's just enjoy ourselves.”

“Sure”, Fox responded, though he felt anything but joyed by his comment.

He talked with a few more politicians after Dash, making polite, charming small talk but mostly ignoring them, before there was finally a lull in their endless attempts at networking. But – just his luck – he couldn't find Wolf anymore, as the lupine had apparently decided to leave his perch without Fox's noticing (probably when Fox was talking with that elephant with a head-cold who blocked most of his view).

Sighing, he turned around to make his way into the reception hall proper, where he'd be standing next to Slippy for most of the ceremony. He felt a little lightheaded at the idea, but was also excited by it. It felt like he was finally getting over his anxieties and sorrows about Slippy's departure, instead focusing on what a momentous joy this was for his teammate – his friend.

He almost made it to the door when Krystal tapped on his shoulder. “Are you ready?”, she asked quietly.

Fox grinned, and it was an honest one. “A little less than I was to fight Andross, but yeah”, he joked.

Krystal gave a small, glittering laugh. “I know how you feel.” And he knew she meant it, as there was no way she could physically not.

He raised his paw for an only half-mocking salute as he turned around to enter the hall, ready as he ever would be.

….......

He had too many things to think about – things he _should_ think about – but all the old hare could focus on in that moment was the sight of Fox and Slippy standing side-by-side in front of the altar, Falco just a foot away behind them, as the music swelled, and they all waited for Amanda to begin her procession down the aisle.

Fox, Slippy, Falco – he'd had a hand in raising all them into the men they were today, and he couldn't stop the surge of pride and emotion that swelled in him at the sight of all three of them standing here in this hall, while the youngest was on the verge of entering a new stage of his life.

Peppy didn't cry much as a rule, but he could feel his eyes watering. Lucy grabbed his right paw and squeezed it – he was so lucky to have her as a daughter. He squeezed hers back, not letting himself turn to face her. He knew she was on the verge of tears too, and if he did, they'd both start openly crying.

Not unlike Beltino, seated to his left, handkerchief in hand. Seeing Slippy's father alive, watching his son grow up, filled Peppy with a sudden, sharp pang for James's absence.

For _Vivian's_ absence.

Amanda started walking down the aisle, dressed in a billowing, draping, sun-yellow affair that would look gaudy if not for the fact she wore it with such assuredness. He watched her as she continued in her procession, chaperoned by her father, her friends following behind and throwing flower petals in her wake. He looked at the other guests to avoid looking at her, not willing to be reminded of how Viv looked as he approached him on that fateful day in the same way Amanda was doing now.

Krystal was smiling, eyes glistening. Wolf and his team were next to her – the lupine himself with an unreadable, placid expression, Panther the image of politeness, and Fay – wearing what appeared to be a tower of bananas on her head – bouncing up and down in her seat, as excited as a child. Bill Grey was here, too, along with his wife and entire clan. The Toads' extended family and friends, along with the Granota's.

He turned back to watch the ceremony rather than let his eyes wander over to the Prime Minister, Hugin and the other Cornerian delegates. He didn't want to think about how a fleet was on the verge of invasion right now, or how Hart was taking advantage of the situation. Just _considering_ thinking about it sent his heart rate flying.

Amanda was standing next to Slippy now, and the priest was speaking. Peppy wasn't sure what the traditional religion was on Aquas, but he found he wasn't particularly interested anyway. He was too fixated on how fixated Slippy and Amanda were on each other.

The fated words came, and both of the amphibians repeated them – Slippy managed to not stutter, which was good.

They leaned in to kiss, and Amanda lifted Slippy fully off the ground, twirling him around as they kissed perhaps a little more deeply and passionately than was appropriate. But the guests cheered at the show, and the hall was suddenly full of streamers and confetti released from the ceiling.

Amanda placed her lover – no, _husband_ – back on the ground. He looked punch-drunk, either by the sudden spinning, the kiss, or perhaps both.

A few tears escaped Peppy's eyes as he clapped along with everyone else.

Today was a good day, and he wasn't going to let whatever happened, or might happen, ruin this moment for him.

….......

A champagne cork _barely_ missed her ear as she walked past the bar, speeding along its path like a wayward bullet. She didn't sense any pain or surprise from the direction it flew off in, so presumably no one was hurt.

Unless they were so drunk they didn't notice, which was fully possible.

The party had only been going on for about an hour, but it had quickly devolved into a raucous affair, much more so than the rehearsal. Shouts of joy rang out at random intervals from across the hall, interspersed with bursts of laughter and general alcohol-greased revelry. The wedding band was playing well, if a little rough. The energy was electric.

Krystal knew she should've been enjoying this as much as everyone else, but there was a strange, anxious energy in the air that she couldn't place – a bitter aftertaste to the sweetness of the ceremony and celebration, like she finished a glass of honeywine to find blood at the bottom.

Stomach turned by the intrusive thought, she shook her head to dispel it. She wasn't going to let her own hang-ups color her perception of the day, which had been exuberant.

The vixen made her way to her friends and teammates, hanging in a loose circle at the edge of the hall. Amanda and Slippy had their arms around each other's waists, their feelings for each other glowing like a rose beacon in Krystal's senses. Falco was telling a story to Bill and his wife, causing the stocky canine to laugh at an off-color joke. Katt was talking with Panther and Fay, but kept shooting glances in Falco's direction, possessive desire radiating towards him in waves as if to say _mine_.

And there was Fox and Wolf, off to the side of the group, speaking in hushed tones. Krystal felt Wolf's brokenness, and Fox's careful, _so_ careful nurturing, as the vulpine lovingly tried to put the pieces back together.

She felt like a sudden intruder in their private moment and forcibly pried her mind away, not wanting to steal into their inner lives like a thief in the night, picking up stray memories on her way out.

“You okay?”, Amanda asked her, separated from Slippy as he was press-ganged into talking with Falco and Bill.

Krystal smiled. “Yes”, she half-lied. “I'm just deciding whose conversation I want to butt in on.”

Amanda laughed – it felt like little points of sunlight when she did that. “I know how you feel. You've got to have more common ground with everyone than me though. I never know what to talk about with all these military people.”

“And _yet_, you married one”, Krystal quipped back.

Amanda chuckled again. “Slippy's different”, she said, her mind drifting back to her husband. “He's a scientist who happens to be a starfighter pilot, not a pilot through and through. You know what I mean?”

“Yes”, Krystal nodded. “He's not like Fox, or Falco.”

“Or you?”, Amanda asked perceptively.

Krystal took a sip to buy for time as she formulated a response. “I'm not actually sure, to be honest.”

Amanda smiled. “That's okay. I don't know what I want to be when I grow up either.”

They both laughed at that – and for a second, Krystal felt fully at ease, before the mental taste of red iron bled through her mind again. Amanda didn't seem to notice her momentary discomfort, but Krystal excused herself regardless, citing a need to go to the bathroom.

She passed a throng of Cornerian security forces surrounding the Prime Minister on her way. The red deer himself was talking with Dash Bowman and that Anglar delegate, and the pockets of languid loathing that radiated from their conversation was enough to keep her trudging along with her head down.

The band struck up a new song, this one also a little off-key. Not enough to be terrible, but just enough for her to notice it and find it grating. She supposed they were probably hired for their proximity, rather than their talent.

“...And she's safe there, at least”, a deep voice said from off to her left, catching her attention. “Can't launch any psychic attacks as long as we keep her sedated.”

“Is that... legal?”, a more timid voice asked.

The deeper one laughed. “If the PM gives us the okay, then it's legal.”

A handful of nervous laughs at that, and Krystal's attention was piqued. The deep voice belonged to a raven, apparently, and the tableau of emotions coming off of him was strange enough to warrant momentary pause and consideration. Here was a man who'd obviously done some very questionable things in his life, and who felt _some_ guilt over them, but who approached things with such a cavalier attitude that he treated everything as one great, cosmic joke. This was someone responsible for creating pockets of controlled chaos, and who – even if he said he did it for the good of his people, and on some level did in fact do that – got no small modicum of joy out his work.

There was only one raven in a Cornerian leadership position with information about Bella who could possess an emotional landscape like this. “Captain Hugin”, Krystal greeted him as she approached.

The raven rose a single brow at her. “Miss, cap-”, the timid voice – a mouse – started, before his superior silenced him with a raised hand.

“Don't worry about it, Bruch.” He looked at the rest of the people (presumably LCI agents) he'd been speaking to, a humorous glint in his eye, as if he couldn't believe she'd interrupted them. “Actually, you guys head on a while. Give me a moment with her, yeah?” They filtered out without argument and left her alone with Hugin, who turned to stare at her as if she was joking.

“I was wondering how Bella was doing”, Krystal said.

“Of course you were”, the raven responded, no malice in his tone or emotions – just humor. Krystal found this far more grating than if he'd just been angry.

“And?”, she said cuttingly.

He shrugged. “Doing as fine as a comatose experiment-gone-wrong can be, I suppose. _Look_”, he said before she had a chance to cut him off. “I get you're worried, think we're probably doing all sorts of shady shit, but we're not.” He smiled dangerously – it reminded her of Wolf. “At least, not in _this_ situation.”

“So you admit to doing – in your words – 'shady shit' in the past?”

“Well yeah”, he answered. No guilt laced his words. “I mean, come on. We're the LCI.”

She shook her head in disbelief, grip tightening on her glass. She could tell he was _trying_ to get a raise out of her now. He was much more direct and uncouth than she'd been imagining he'd bee based off of Fox and Wolf's descriptions of their encounters – younger, too. “I don't believe it's a given that a defense organization has to conduct affairs the way you do to work.”

He stared at her, still grinning smugly, but with a challenging undercurrent. “Of course not – you're an empath. You and your people didn't _need_ an organization like us to keep the peace. But we're not all as blessed as you are, Krystal.”

His use of her name set her to flushing with anger. “You think it's a _blessing_, to sense every stray thought that – that _zips_ around the room.” She was fully aware she wasn't cutting the in-control figure she'd intended to portray when she started this conversation, and it made her even angrier.

He shrugged. “Hell if I know. All I know is that's an asset.” He narrowed his eyes and smiled again, presumably trying to make it look as charming as possible. Krystal imagined it probably worked on other people. “You ever consider putting that asset to good use?”  
  
She sent him a withering look. “Are you trying to _hire_ me?”, she asked with a tone as challenging as his own.

“_Where were you!?_”, a harsh voice interrupted their quasi-dispute. Krystal turned to face its owner: a bitter-looking, middle-aged raven who exuded an aura of equal parts irritation and exhaustion. He was directing his tirade at the man Krystal assumed – and now realized was not in fact – Captain Hugin. She barely had a chance to be mortified when the elder Raven continued. “If you're going to leave your post, then _let me know beforehand_.” Hugin glanced at Krystal. “Hello”, he said irately, as if what he actually wanted to say was “go away.”

“My post was pointless and you know it”, Not-Hugin responded. “If anything happens, it's going to happen here, not in the hangar.” He put a hand on Hugin's shoulder in a familiar gesture. “Besides, there's alcohol and more attractive women here.” He winked at Krystal sarcastically, and she returned it with a deadpan expression.

Hugin grumbled something under his breath. “Just get back to your post. You can get drunk later.”

The younger raven shrugged and started to walk away. “Remember what we talked about”, he said to Krystal as he left.

Hugin muttered “good-bye” in the same tone he said 'hello' in and stalked off, leaving Krystal to stand there in awkward disbelief.

As she continued towards the bathroom, she realized she hadn't even caught the raven's name.

It pestered her almost as much as that iron aftertaste still hanging in the air.

….......

His arm still burned where Fox's paw had touched it – _caressed_ it, really – not a minute ago. It wasn't a real burn, nor was it painful. It felt like a sort of effervescent fire tingling just under his skin, making him ache for more. The lupine always felt this way, but it took drunkenness for him to really let his guard down and bask in it.

He just stared at Fox as the vulpine kept making the rounds (initially refusing to leave Wolf's side until he absolutely _assured_ Fox he was fine), watching him mingle with his friends and allies with an analytic intent dulled by his intoxication.

He could watch Fox all day.

And he would, too, if it weren't for the fact that the copious amount of drink in his system had now worked its way through and was pestering him to get it out. Wolf had only gotten so drunk he'd pissed himself once in his life, when he was very young and very stupid, and he was determined to keep that number from increasing. He felt dizzy and detached as he stalked across the expansive room, sounds of ringing laughter both false and true resounding way too loudly in his head. It did little to calm him down – he'd been on edge when he'd started drinking, and the edge was only getting sharper the longer the party went on, Fox being his only respite.

His drunken haze only rose in obfuscation as he passed across the floor. The band currently playing was obviously working under the assumption that 'loud' was the same as 'good', but the audience didn't seem to notice either way – probably almost as drunk as he was.

Wolf entered the bathroom and shoved himself past a few animals to get to a free stall, earning glares in response. In another circumstance it would've been intentional on his part: a way to start shit. But, embarrassingly enough, the real reason he bumped into them was that he had only half a handle on how his body was moving at the moment.

He remained in the stall even after pissing out what felt like more than he'd ever drank in his life. He started chuckling at how ridiculous it was – he, Lord Wolf O'Donnell, hiding in a public bathroom stall to escape a fucking social gathering of all things, sitting on a damn toilet. His laughter caused at least one animal to stop in his tracks in the restroom, unsure what to do about the guy sitting in a stall and laughing to himself. The thought of how alternatively confused and worried the animal was made him laugh even harder.

An indeterminate amount of time passed, and a pair of shoes stopped outside the stall, and Wolf knew who it was before he even opened his mouth.

“Wolf”, Fox said quietly. “Are you okay?”

The lupine tilted his head back and sighed through his nose. “No.”

A moment of silence passed. Wolf could see Fox awkwardly shifting from one foot to another through the gap. “...Can I come in?”

Wolf grinned to no one but himself, and opened the stall door. He knew he must've looked even worse than he did an hour ago, despite the fact he was starting to sober up. Fox smiled at him in a long-suffering way, shook his head, and stepped inside, closing the door behind him. There wasn't much room in there, and Wolf was still too dizzy to stand, so he just continued to sit on the can. Fox surprised him by sitting on his lap, facing him.

Now it was Wolf's turn to shake his head. “Trying to get down in a restroom, now? Knew you didn't have a problem with public shit, but I never pegged you for _that _kinky.”

Fox playfully punched him in the shoulder – Wolf savored the warm rush he felt at the contact. “We're not having sex in here”, the vulpine said with an air of both humor and finality. Wolf laughed again; he'd been joking about fucking, but Fox must've taken it somewhat seriously.

“You want to ditch the party?”, Fox asked.

Wolf's ears perked up at the surprise suggestion. “Do you even have to ask?”, he responded after a beat, earning a mischievous smile from the vulpine. Wolf didn't even know what they'd do if they left, but the _idea_ of leaving was exciting in and of itself, as if they'd be breaking some kind of rule together.

Fox smiled at him – a small thing, but obviously loving. “I'll tell Slippy and then we can get out of here. Maybe go to the beach.”

Wolf suddenly recalled a passing fantasy he'd had when they'd first got to Aquas – one involving a certain fox wearing as skimpy a bathing suit as legally possible. “I'd be down.”

Fox's expression was full of silent laughter, replaced with sudden panic as they heard the restroom door open and a pair of animals walk inside.

“...I'm just... I don't even _know_, Pep”, the vaguely nasal voice Wolf recognized as belonging to Slippy's dad said. “How do you handle the empty nest?”

The fatherly dulcet tone of Peppy goddamn Hare responded, causing Fox's face to fly past panic and land somewhere in the vicinity of mortification. “I wouldn't know, Beltino. Lucy's yet to tie the knot herself.” The rabbit chuckled. “Though not for lack of trying on my part, I promise. She's not exactly one to settle, though. She's like Viv that way.” The lagomorph's voice sounded distant, like his mind was somewhere far away.

“I don't know how you do it”, Beltino said. “I know Slippy's a man, he's been one for years, but I can only ever see him as my _son_. I look at him standing there with Amanda, and she's a _wonderful_ woman, a dream daughter-in-law, but I keep thinking 'That's my boy. My baby boy. And she's stealing him away from me'. And it's horribly unfair but it comes out all the same, and –”

The anuran's voice was cut off as Fox accidentally slipped sideways off Wolf's lap and landed on the floor, clanging into the door of the stall on the way. Silence took over the room as Peppy and Beltino no doubt noticed there were two animals occupying a single stall.

“...Fox?”, Peppy asked. Wolf guessed he must've noticed Fox's tail. How could you not, he thought, with how his fur caught the light of everything, glowing a burned gold.

Wolf looked at Fox, fallen on the floor of a public restroom stall, under the wan fluorescent lights above. He'd never looked more beautiful.

“Yes!”, the vulpine said too quickly, shooting up and opening the stall door, revealing both the canines inside. Wolf just stared at the two older men with a toothy, half-sober grin.

Peppy and Beltino quickly made eye contact without moving their heads – impressive, really – and Peppy smiled abashedly. “Sorry to, _uh_... interrupt, I suppose.”

“You weren't!”, Fox said. “Interrupting anything, I mean. We were just...”

At his boyfriend's lapse in finding the words, Wolf stood up and walked out of the stall, still stumbling a little, but getting better. “Fox was humoring me”, he said, forcing the words to come out straight. “I got drunk and freaked out, ran to the bathroom. Fox went to find me.”

The assembled animals just stared at him – Beltino with relief, Peppy with a polite but disbelieving smile, and Fox with an expression too inscrutable for Wolf to work out right now.

“Well, as long as you're alright now”, Peppy spoke up, the consummate gentleman.

“I am”, Wolf lied.

Another awkward pause ensued, and Fox finally broke it. “We should get back out there...”

“Of course!”, Beltino seized the opportunity. “You two should enjoy yourselves!” He looked embarrassed as soon as he said it. “Just not... too much?”

Wolf unconvincingly covered his bark of laughter with a cough, and Fox proceeded to shuttle him out of the room. Wolf didn't bother trying to cover it up as they finally escaped.

“_Oh my God_”, Fox said under his breath, more to himself than anyone else. “That was almost as bad as Slippy's Arwing.”

They made eye contact, and the look in Fox's triggered another round of laughs from Wolf – and it wasn't long before Fox ended up joining in.

Wolf's laughter subsided as he saw Krystal approach them. Something about her expression was hard to place, made even harder by the lupine's residual haziness. “Falco's looking for you”, she told Fox. “He wants confirmation about some of the stories Bill's been telling about your academy days.”

Fox groaned, and Krystal giggled. “_Please_ tell me it has nothing to do with –”

“–the time you two accidentally commandeered a Katinan travel cruiser?”, she finished, unable to stop herself from smiling.

Fox slapped a paw against his face and slowly dragged it down the length of his muzzle. “Excuse me”, he said curtly before heading off.

Wolf and Krystal both laughed as he made his way across the party floor. “Wish I was there”, Wolf said wistfully. “I could use some more material to hang over his head.”

The vixen shook her head. “You're incorrigible.” Her pleasant demeanor jerked a bit – not enough for most animals to notice, but enough for Wolf.

“What's up?”, he asked.

She looked taken aback, obviously surprised Wolf was able to spot her weakness. “It's nothing”, she assured him with a smile. Wolf rose a single brow in response – he might still be partially under the influence, but he wasn't stupid.

Krystal sighed. “I keep getting... _odd_ signals.” At Wolf's look, she continued. “There's a lot of thoughts and emotions going around – there always are at big parties like this – and some of them are...” She trailed off, looking for the right words. “...Hard-to-place, I suppose.”

Wolf leaned against the wall, taking in the crowd. A cheer went out as the band started up another song, this one even louder than the last, with a _really_ annoying beat that sounded more scatterbrained and schizophrenic than exciting and energetic. The drunken animals on the floor continued to dance regardless, though.

“I'm not surprised”, Wolf half-yelled over the din. “All these stuck-up politicians and military types – they're probably thinking about how much they want to throttle each other, smiling all the while.”

Krystal looked at him appraisingly. “Why, Wolf”, she said, cupping her paws and speaking equally as loudly as he him. “One almost gets the sense you're a pessimist.”

She said it with a smile, and Wolf barked out a laugh. A wild thought came over him.

“Dance with me!”, he shouted at her.

“_What?_”, she responded disbelievingly, but smiling all the same.

“Come on – you heard me.” He couldn't use drunkenness as an excuse anymore. He hated half the people here, hated the posturing, hated the noise – hated that _fucking_ excuse for music playing over it all, slathering it in an extra layer of fine-tuned, sharp-as-nails anger – and he knew Krystal hated it almost as much as he did. He loved Fox more than anything else in the world, but Fox was not a hater, and he wanted to revel in a bit of casual hatred right now. Krystal could share that with him – they could be friends over something as crappy as

disliking the vibe of this party.

And the best part was he didn't need to tell Krystal any of that, because she could figure it out herself. She shrugged as if to say “might as well”, and Wolf took her paws. They did an awkward, stupid sort of hopping shimmy, laughing in a positively juvenile manner.

They stopped after about a minute, laughing too hard, unable to go on any longer. Wolf continued to hold her paws as they slowly turned in place, despite the music getting even more frantic and obnoxious. “I feel terrible”, Krystal said, residual echoes of laughter undercutting and conflicting with her words. “Like I'm insulting Slippy and Amanda's party.”

Wolf shook his head and grinned. “No, you're not”, he assured her. “We're their party. You, me, Fox, their family both blood and chosen – _we're_ their party”, he repeated himself. “All these people?” He gestured to the assembled politicians and commanders, and the pristinely-appointed red deer in the middle of the largest clique he knew was Corneria's prime minister. “These people are crashing their party.”

The guitar-player let out an exceptionally off-key riff that even the party-goers in general noticed, wincing at it. “You're more astute when you're partially inebriated”, Krystal said, only partially joking.

“Always”, he shot back with a particularly greasy wink, earning a slap across the paws and another laugh.

But then her laughter slipped away, replaced with that same edginess he saw in her earlier. He chuckled. “Hearing the politicians again?”

She chewed on her lip. “It tastes like blood.”

Wolf snorted at the incongruous comment, but then he noticed she looked genuinely upset. Her eyes widened, then narrowed. Wolf felt a passing sort of queasiness settle in his gut, and an itch somewhere behind his brain.

“_What's wrong?_”, he leaned in and asked with a low tone of voice, appearing to those surrounding them like a drunken, amorous suitor – but he felt more alert right now than he had all week.

Krystal subtly swept their surroundings with her eyes before looking back at Wolf. “_Violent intent. Somewhere in the room_.”

Wolf's right paw jerked, muscle memory of his fingers craving the grip of his blaster. The band had progressed from playing bad music to playing something that sounded more like random noise, all clashes and bangs with no sense of rhythm – or if there was one, it was one alien to any sane person's sensibilities.

He started forming a plan of action, thinking about angles, tactics, strategy. He was about to start voicing them when Krystal jerked and gasped. She looked right at him, and said one word.

“_Duck!_”

Wolf didn't even process what she said, not really – he acted purely on instinct and reaction time, dropping into a poised crouch right as she did. He stayed there like a coiled spring ready to unload for a second, and started to feel foolish.

Until he noticed the goat standing in front of him grasping his smoking abdomen, expression more surprised than pained. As the goat fell to his knees, he began to reach forward and grab him when Krystal held him back, more blaster bolts launching into the crowd.

A wordless, silent panic emerged, completely smothered by the eardrum-splitting din of the band's wild drums and strings. Wolf's cybernetic eye picked up the heat signals of blasterfire streaking through the air, coming from outside the windows of the venue. The sound of the band covered everything – the hushed streaks of laserfire downing animals at piecemeal like a visual accompaniment to the ceaseless, mindless noise. LCI agents and those in the know – growing in number by the second – knocked over tables and turned them into cover, reached for civilians and politicians alike and brought them to the ground for relative safety, drew hidden blasters of their own and tried to retaliate against the unseen assailants launching a barrage of sniperfire into the hotel from beyond its walls.

As the world came undone around him, there was only one thought in Wolf's mind.

_Fox_.

He turned to Krystal in a panic, and she must've known he'd thought it – of course she would – and she nodded, signaling to begin a sort of crouch-walk around the perimeter of the room. More blasterfire came in from the outside, obviously aimed more at the agents and military types than the unarmed party-goers at this point.

_Fox. Fox. Fox_.

The thought repeated in his head like a mantra, a prayer, as if repeating the vulpine's name would deliver him safe and sound into his arms.

A bellowing crash came from the front of the room as animals started falling from the sky into the hall. No, that was wrong, Wolf realized – they were in controlled drops, booster packs softening their descent. Animals decked out in pitch-black tactical gear, wielding top-of-the-line weapons, firing them at will.

The band was done playing now, their songs replaced by new music made of screams and gunfire and shouting. And still the mantra repeated.

_Fox. Fox. Fox._

A hammerhead shark appeared in front of him, dual-wielding, gunbarrels pointed right at Wolf's head. The lupine launched into him in a mindless fury, all teeth and nails. He felt like an outsider in his own body as he bit down on the shark's jugular and jerked his head, leaving the aquatic animal holding onto his red, bursting mess of a neck on the floor.

He remembered what Krystal said as he looked down at the front of his crimson-splattered chest, keenly aware of the sensation of liquid all over his muzzle, tongue bursting with the overpowering flavor of foreign iron.

_It tastes like blood_.

He didn't have time to gag. He didn't have time to think. He pried away the dead shark's two blasters and ducked behind the counter of the bar just as more shots flew over it, Krystal right on his tail, no judgment written on her face as he passed her the extra.

Still the thought repeated.

_Fox. Fox. Fox._

He rose from his position and gunned down two more assailants in quick succession, one a rodent and the other a cephalopod. He grabbed the hem of a dress of a wailing, shocked raccoon civilian and hefted her over the counter and into safety.

He continued on.

He ducked behind another impromptu table blockade being manned by a troop of combined LCI and Venomian security forces, working together to secure as many civilians and down as many attackers as possible. A hound agent took a look at him and paled at the sight. “Not my blood”, Wolf said to reassure him, only realizing after he said it that it accomplished the opposite. “The bar's cleared. Better cover for the civvies. Use it.”

“Can't”, the hound responded. “Sniper on the left side”, he gestured to the window overlooking the run from the upturned table to the bar. “It'll be a shooting gallery.”

Wolf eyed the window, and then Krystal. “I'll handle it. Get to the bar when he's dropped.” He looked at Krystal and trusted her, _willed_ her to understand – he'd get Fox. She needed to get these people to safety.

She paused, and nodded.

“Hey, wait!”, the hound shouted as Wolf charged and slid under another table that hadn't fallen, piercing sniper bolt singing the edge of his tail as he passed.

He took a deep breath, and threw a bottle he'd snagged from the bar upwards – it shattered in a thousand pieces, destroyed by the super-heated laser bolt – and he spotted the shooter, who really wasn't as far away or nearly as protected as he should be, the amateur. Wolf aimed and fired, and didn't even wait for the body to fall before he continued on.

Wordless moans of agony and stupefied shrieking got his attention – but it was the calm, collected orders interspersed with them that drew his focus.

_Fox. Fox. Fox_.

He shot an equine in the back, sending him to his knees, making sure to put another blast in in his temple for good measure as he passed by, before he threw himself over another table-barricade, earning a gun in his face.

He had never, _ever_, been so happy to stare down the length of a blaster.

“_So_”, he said, only now realizing how out-of-breath he was. “You always draw your gun on your partners?”

The blaster dropped, and Fox's face instantly turned from one of taught, focused, driven leadership to a melting puddle of relief. “_Wolf_.”

The vulpine seized him around the middle and held him in a vice grip.

And in that moment, with the sounds of shouting moving out and away from the hall, and the blasterfire dwindling in its ferocity, Wolf stayed silent, and held Fox.

His mantra was rewarded, and he heaved a sigh of relief.

An emotion he knew wouldn't last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is taking quite a bit more time to finish than I had initially planned! I suppose it is what it is.
> 
> As always, thank you for kudos, comments, and criticism - I read everything, even if I don't respond. Have a nice remainder of summer!


	12. Chapter 12

_“He’s losing too much blood”._

_The sounds of blasterfire had mostly dissipated from within the building, but every once in a while one would cut through the air outside, raising Fox’s hackles._

_“We need to get him to medical, STAT.”_

_He tried to tune out the sound of the EMTs as they worked on the swiftly-failing animal in front of him. He felt utterly disassociated from the situation, Wolf’s paw on his shoulder the only thing anchoring him to reality._

_Wolf was telling him something, but the words weren’t registering. It must’ve been something along the lines of saying they needed to let the professionals do their work, because Wolf started to guide him away from the scene._

_Fox knew Wolf was getting the blood of another person all over him, but what difference did it make? He was already covered with someone else’s blood himself – adding more didn’t change anything._

_He took one last look back and wondered how things would’ve gone if he’d managed to drop the assailant before they had a chance to fire._

_He shook the thought aside as he spotted the rest of his teammates, and felt a deep sense of relief that they’d made it – relief that froze solid in his throat when he made eye contact with Slippy._

_There was no getting around this._

_He approached the amphibian and started to speak. The words almost caught in his throat, but they managed to claw their way out._

_He almost wished they hadn’t._

# XII

The air positively _reeked_ of that peculiar, burned ozone scent that followed a firefight. There was something about the way laser bolts interacted with the atmosphere, like they had a tendency to scorch the air itself on a molecular level.

Peppy was too used to that scent to let it bother him overmuch.

What _did_ bother him was the number of bodies.

“Nada”, the gopher at his side intoned – a little needlessly, Peppy thought. You didn’t need a sensor to confirm lack of heartbeat when pieces of the victim’s heart were visible, scattered in chunks on the marble floor. “I’ll check the others”, the rodent agent said as she moved away to continue pacing the length of the reception hall, one of several agents checking for survivors amidst the carnage.

Peppy nodded curtly, watching the agent continue in her grim task, face stony all the while. A sudden surge of pain coursing up his thigh caused him to grimace and automatically reach for the heavily-bandaged spot.

His reaction didn’t go unnoticed.

“You should go back to the medbay”, the tall feline told him, arms partially folded and right paw toying with his whiskers. The action looked measured, but Peppy recognized it for the nervous tic it was. “McCloud _et al_ are probably worrying about you as we speak.”

Peppy’s expression didn’t change – he wasn’t sure if it stayed steady because he was willing it, or if he was still too shocked by the events of the last hour to begin processing any of it yet. “Not ‘probably’ – I _know_ they are. But my wound’s not serious, and this is more important.”

Panther eyed him challengingly, and Peppy stared right back until the cat turned away. He didn’t want _or_ need anyone to accompany him on the casualty-check, but the doctor insisted, ‘just in case’ his leg gave out. Caroso certainly wouldn’t have been his first choice for the task, either – probably wouldn’t have even been considered as a possibility under normal circumstances.

But the current circumstances were anything but that.

“Sir?”, an eager-looking but also visibly nauseous equine addressed him. “We’ve finished the check.” He paused, obviously uncomfortable with what he had to say. “No survivors.” Under Peppy’s still-expectant gaze, he swallowed before continuing. “…And he’s not here, either.”

Peppy took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t been expecting. “Alright then, corporal. You’re free to go.”

The horse gave an uneasy salute, and he – along with the rest of the agents and military personnel assembled in the hall – started to depart, letting the coroners take over.

“At least it was only thirty-some”, Panther said coolly. “Your people reacted very quickly. It could’ve been much worse.”

Peppy’s thigh continued to throb, positively radiating with pain. He wanted to tell the feline he was wrong, that thirty-seven deaths – many of them civilian – was horrible, and that trying to look on the bright side was doing a disservice to their memory.

But he knew that wasn’t what the damnable cat was saying. No, Caroso was being brutally honest. Tactically-minded. The quick actions of the Cornerian and Venomian forces got most of the civilians out of the hall and into safety, and they’d managed to fend off the attack. _That_ was what Panther was pointing out, refused to be swayed into sorrow and emotional compromise as he was. Peppy could see why Wolf respected his input.

The lupine was probably missing his input at that moment, actually. Peppy needed to wrap up here.

He drew his comm-device from his pocket and called the LCI’s acting captain – it only took a second for him to pick up.

“_Anything?_”

Straight to the point, just like his older brother.

The brother Peppy knew was still comatose courtesy of a blaster bolt to the temporal lobe.

“No. He’s not here.”

The raven let out a sigh equal parts relieved and perturbed. “_Well, at least he’s not dead. _Yet_, anyway_.” An awkward pause followed, as he probably realized in what poor taste it was to crack jokes at the moment – _especially_ given the subject matter they were discussing.

But Peppy just chuckled, standing there in the midst of a broken and bloodied ruin as he was. “Don’t stop joking, Mugin. I only have the wherewithal to handle _one_ humorless raven, and he’s not going anywhere yet, you hear?”

“…_Yeah_”, the acting captain responded, clearly unsure what to do with the suddenly fatherly encouragement. “_Listen, I have all my eyes and ears out all over the place – what ones haven’t been chopped off yet, at least. I’ll let you know the second we notice something_.”

“Good”, Peppy responded. The Cornerian Navy already had a blockade set up around the planet, and all of Aquas’ security forces were on high alert. Between that and the LCI’s swiftly-recuperating network, he felt secure in stating that none of the escaped attackers were getting off this godforsaken ball of water.

_But that’s beside the point, isn’t it?_

Peppy tried to ignore his own thoughts as he said farewell to Mugin and pocketed his device, but it was no use.

At least the raven was right. Prime Minister Hart might be MIA, but at least he wasn’t dead.

Yet.

……….

Another heartrending sound of distress rang out from the next room over – one that couldn’t decide if it wanted to be a sob or a scream, so settled for both. Fox had to physically check himself from jumping up and storming back into the neighboring suite. It was what he _wanted_ to do, but he knew it wouldn’t help. He’d already said and done what he could. They needed time to themselves now – Krystal had told him as much, before leaving to get some air, on the borderline of having a panic attack herself. Fox had tried to go with her, too, but she wouldn’t let him, his mind being part of the storm she needed to weather from.

Unable to comfort either of them, Fox was filled with… he didn’t even know what to call this emotion. Didn’t know if it had a name. Didn’t know if it _could_ have a name. Watching people in pain was torture – but watching people in pain and being unable to do a single thing to alleviate it? That was something beyond.

He finally hoisted himself up and started pacing the room, heedless of the looks from the other two animals sitting with him, just to make himself feel like he was doing something rather than nothing at all. He’d somehow made it out of that nightmare without a single injury – which only made him feel more guilty about his failure.

If he’d been just a _little_ quicker – just _one more second_ faster in getting off the shot –

Another ghastly wail sailed right through the wall and settled somewhere in the pit of Fox’s core, setting his teeth to chattering.

“That’s _it_”, Falco said emphatically, launching out of his chair even more forcefully than Fox had himself a moment ago. “I can’t take this anymore. I…” He trailed off, looking at Fox, but not _really_ looking at him. “I need to get out of here.”

Fox nodded. He didn’t feel any enmity towards his teammate for needing to leave. Falco was almost as bad as Fox when it came to that deep-seated need to do something – he was probably having a variant of the very same internal monologue Fox was having himself.

The difference is that Falco’s turmoil could be assuaged by freedom – by escape.

Nothing could fix Fox’s like that.

Five minutes passed after his teammate’s departure. Ten. Fifteen. Still, Fox kept pacing. He only vaguely noticed the sun beginning to set, turning Aquas’ surface into a sea of blood. Just a few days ago he was basking in the beauty of this planet, walking on a moonlit beach with Wolf – and how it was one of the ugliest places in the whole damned galaxy.

“You going to keep that up all night, pup?”

Fox stopped and stared at the lupine – long-since physically cleaned-up of blood, but looking no more emotionally better for it. Another tormented sob from the next room set Fox’s ears back flat against his head.

“…Maybe”, he answered.

Wolf just stared at him for a second longer before standing up himself and walking over to him.

“What’re you doing?”, Fox asked. He loved Wolf, but if he was about to try and distract him with romantic overtures they were going to be rebuffed. He was decidedly not in the mood.

“Pacing with you”, the lupine answered quietly. “If you’re going to keep making laps of this damn room then I’m going to make them with you.”

Fox was taken aback for a second, but he managed to – well – not quite _smile_, but something on the way there. “You can leave, too, if you want”, Fox told him. “I won’t get upset.”

Wolf’s face stayed stoic as he rose a paw to Fox’s own, rubbing the vulpine’s cheek with his thumb. “I know you won’t – but I don’t want to.” He put his other on Fox’s waist. “I want to feel you. Here. Alive.”

Fox reciprocated by balling his paws in Wolf’s chest. They stood there for a moment, just holding each other, and Fox started to crumble, if only a little bit. He didn’t feel a desire to cry so much as a desire to _have_ that desire, as if letting it out would relieve some of his tension. The guilt. The _loss_.

He might not have been family, but he was damn close.

“…If I’d got him… just _one_ second f–”

“Shut the fuck up”, Wolf interrupted him, snapping him back to reality. “You start with that ‘oh, if only I’d done this instead of _this_’ crap, you never stop. That’s a road that goes nowhere but to shit.”

Fox steadied himself. “…You’re right”, he said with weak – but real – conviction. “What would I do without you?”

Wolf shrugged easily. “Probably beat yourself up every night over not having 24/7 access the best lay in the system.” He shot Fox a lopsided grin the vulpine knew was for show, a way to both distract and comfort – but Fox responded with a smile of his own. 

A weak knock on the door broke the moment. Fox approached and opened it with hesitancy, every movement feeling slightly unreal, as if he was in a very unsettling dream.

He guessed it probably felt even more nightmarish to the animal standing outside the suite.

“Hey”, Amanda said with a quiet croak, eyes red and puffy.

Fox suddenly had a horrible thought. Amanda must have guessed what he was about to say and head him off. “Both of my parents are okay”, she said. “Daddy got grazed, but he’s fine.” She chewed on her bottom lip. “…I just wanted to say thanks.”

“Amanda…”, Fox trailed off. He didn’t even know how he planned to finish that sentence.

The fuchsia frog smiled knowingly, if sadly. “You guys helped save a lot of lives today. You’re all heroes. You know – if you didn’t already know that.” Her expression dropped. “Slippy can’t…. can’t _say_ it yet, but I _know_ he knows you did your best. Please don’t blame yourself.”

Fox heard her words, but all that registered was a growling moan of pain from a wounded animal, playing on repeat in his mind as he tried to keep pressure on the wound – the sight of Wolf coated in blood, finding the two of them.

“I won’t. Thank you, Amanda.”

She gave one last, small smile before turning to go back into the room next door – back to comforting Slippy and his mother.

Fox shut the door quietly and sighed through his nostrils. He let himself cry, just a little. The vulpine knew what his teammate was going through all too well.

That was how he knew nothing he did right now could help.

……….

The sunset was positively lovely, forming an oppressively cruel contrast with the emotional atmosphere surrounding the resort. Glittering sunlit waves washed over her feet in time with the waves of fear, pain and rage that buffeted her back.

And this was _outside_ the hotel – it was even worse in the heart of things.

Krystal folded her arms and tried to tune it out, to mixed success. She felt terrible for leaving the rest behind; and though she knew they understood, that fact didn’t do anything to ameliorate her guilt.

But she couldn’t do it: between Fox’s own misplaced guilt, Falco’s tension, Wolf’s obsessive defeatism that bordered on narcissistic self-pity at its worst, and – above all – Slippy’s gut-wrenching black hole of _loss_, any longer in that building and she was going to have a breakdown.

Despite the warmth of the air, a shiver trickled down her spine, ice-cold. Fox wasn’t the only vulpine feeling guilty right now. Just as much as he was beating himself up for failing to save Beltino in time, Krystal was tempted to undergo some emotional self-flagellation of her own for failing to notice the impending attack until it was almost upon them.

No, it was worse than that – she _had_ noticed it, but talked herself out of listening to her own instincts. The second she tasted that bloodthirsty thought pattern she should’ve warned them all. But she’d willfully ignored it until it became too powerful to shut out, and by that point it was too late to prevent anything.

A familiar ball of tension approached her place on the beach. Part of her wanted to smile – misery loves company, after all – but another part wanted to shout at him to go away, tell him the whole reason she sought solitude in the first place was to _escape_ the caustic swirl of negative emotions that was the assembled animals of the hotel, not spend more time with any of them.

But that desire washed away as surely and quickly as the retreating tides around her feet, and she turned to greet him.

“I guess you couldn’t take it anymore either?”, she asked.

Falco scoffed. “I don’t know how you even lasted as long as you did”, he answered back before chucking off his own boots to stand in the surf with her.

To any other animal, they were standing in silence – but to Krystal, she was standing next to someone positively screaming in a combination of impotent anger and mourning, with the latter fueling the flames of the former. Her avian comrade did some deep breathing to try and calm himself down, but his efforts were largely wasted. Only taking action was going to work to ease his nerves, and as of now, there were no actions to take.

Krystal smiled wanly. “You men are impossible, you know that?” The smile faded as her thoughts drifted back to one friend in particular. “Slippy’s the only one of you that doesn’t use his work as a crutch to get out of mental pain.”

A single guffaw escaped Falco before he forced his beak shut. “You saying Slippy’s the only one of us who’s _not_ neurotic?”

“No”, she said with a faint laugh of her own. “Just that his neuroses are different.”

Another stretch of quiet elapsed, punctuated only by the sound of the wind and sea, and the softly-spoken murmurs of sorrow drifting across her mindscape like whispers from someone just beyond the edge of her peripheral vision.

“…I’m worried about him”, Falco broke the relative silence. “He’s never lost a family member like this before.”

Krystal didn’t say anything – she didn’t have to. There was a certain dark irony to it, that the one member of Star Fox who _didn’t_ have a family history defined by tragedy should lose their father on their wedding day.

“Slippy is strong”, she said, willing herself to believe it was true. “He’ll be fine. Eventually.”

Falco grumbled. “But he shouldn’t _have_ to be ‘fine’. This shouldn’t have happened, period.” He kept fidgeting as he talked. “And I’m not just talking about Slips, I’m talking about _everything_.” He faced Krystal head-on, and the look in his eyes only reinforced the combination of rage and fear she sensed inside him. “You do realize this means war, right?”, he asked quietly. “And I ain’t talking about… fucking _metaphors_ or whatever.”

The vixen kept her expression stony as she mulled it over – and when she spoke, she tried to make her voice sound reassuring as possible. “I’m sure they’ll locate Hart soon enough and return him to safety.” At his worried look, she continued. “I’ll give you the terrorists may be capable – but at the end of the day, they _are_ just terrorists. This isn’t like the Aparoids, or the Anglars.”

She sensed something uncommon from him then; or at least something uncommonly directed at her.

Pity at someone else’s naïveté.

He didn’t say anything for a moment, struggling not to give her a false, agreeing reassurance since he knew she’d instantly call him out on it. When he finally spoke again, it was quiet enough to almost be a whisper.

“Krystal… these people aren’t just terrorists. They’ve attacked the Cornerian leadership. They’ve taken the goddamn _prime minister_ and we don’t know where he is. Beltino’s fucking _dead_.”

He paused, and she sensed him grappling with whether he should tell her something or not, ultimately deciding he had to with overwhelming resignation. “They have a fleet of warships sitting on the edge of Lylat, and they’re ready to invade.”

Her mind reeled for a second at that revelation. “I thought it was just a ragtag collection of mercenary vessels?”

Falco shook his head. “I did too. But then Peppy clued Fox in on the finer details after the attack, and Fox told me.” Falco looked at the ground. “He told me not to tell you because he knew it’d just freak you out even more.”

She knew she should have felt protected, but instead she just felt insulted – but the emotion passed as she reflected on her own behavior the last few hours and understood why Fox made the call he did, even if it annoyed her.

“…This explains some things”, she more-or-less told herself out loud, sensing the emotions coming from the military personnel in the hotel in a new light.

The sun began to set beneath the waves. Falco looked like he was about to say something when his comm-device rumbled. His face fell as he read whatever message he’d received, and Krystal could feel his unease as clearly as if was her own.

“It’s Fox”, he said flatly. “Says I need to find you and get back to the hotel ASAP.” He stowed it away and looked her in the eye.

“They’ve been signaled by Hart.”

……….

The absolute last thing Fox wanted right now was to be drafted into military proceedings, but he went anyway. Even though Star Fox didn’t hold any official place in the Cornerian Navy, his presence was assumed as a given. Their team had been essential in three systemwide conflicts – there was no arguing that they’d continue to be at the center of conflicts to come, even if Fox didn’t want to be.

But that was the heart of it, wasn’t it? Fox _did_ want to be. This was his life’s calling. Maybe he didn’t want to be here at this exact moment, given the circumstances – but deep down, he really did want to be here, putting it all on the line for the lives of others.

He was mentally drifting, only vaguely paying attention to the arguing voices around him – wondering if that last bit was actually true, or just a lie he told himself to absolve any guilt he might feel over being validated by violent conflict – when someone said his name and brought him back to the here and now.

“I’m sorry?”, he said reflexively.

The grizzly bear looked at him with a sour expression. “We were _saying_, Mr. McCloud, that you could provide some insight into Venom’s involvement in this mess?”

“Venom is _not_ involved in this! Any of this!” Dash’s ears took on a reddish hue as he spoke emphatically.

Peppy made a placating gesture from his seat at the table. “Don’t worry, Dash. No one’s suggesting you or yours are complicit.”

“On the contrary!”, the bear yelled, pounding a fist on the table for emphasis. Fox vaguely recognized him as one of the Navy’s higher-ranking admirals. “I can see Venomian mischief from leagues away, and this situation is smothered in it! Was Bleeding Hart not giving you an army _fast_ enough? You needed it sooner, so you orchestrated a kidnapping?”

“That doesn’t make any sense!”, Dash yelled over the furor of the assembled animals.

“Nothing you Venomians do makes sense!”, the bear shouted back, earning some sounds of agreement.

“Guess that makes you Venomian, then, Keslav?”, the raven seated next to Peppy said calmly.

The furor stopped – Fox thought you could hear a pin drop.

The bear’s eyes narrowed. “You think I’m going to take that from an upstart spook? A _child_ sitting at the adults’ table?”

The raven just tipped his head and smiled magnanimously. “There you go making everything about yourself again –”

The beat yelled. “_I’ll make it all about you if I –_”

“_THAT’S ENOUGH!_”

The entire table turned to look at Peppy. Fox couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard him yell like that – he guessed the same went for the others, based on how stunned all the personnel appeared to be.

“Corneria and Venom, Navy and Intelligence – we don’t have time for petty squabbles like this anymore. That’s final. Any of you have a problem with that, then I suggest you get up and leave this table now.”

The animals all remained seated – the bear admiral and the raven had the good grace to look cowed, though Fox thought the latter looked like he was faking it.

Peppy took a deep breath and continued. “Good. Now,”, he pressed a button and conjured a large three-dimensional hologram displaying Aquas. “We received a message sent from the Prime Minister’s comm-device about thirty minutes ago. Luckily, we have active telemetry measures in place using almost every device that can access the extranet on Aquas, courtesy of the LCI.” He nodded to the raven next to him, who Fox had already guessed at this point was an agent. “_Unluckily_, we traced the signal back to Hart’s device – but it was only the device itself, abandoned in a warehouse on the other side of the island.” He sat back in his chair and steepled his paws. “We’re still tracking every signal on the planet, which means the terrorists can’t so much as sneeze without as knowing – but they’ve remained silent so far. We _will_ hone in on their location, though.”

Fox frowned. “How do you know?”, he asked.

Peppy tried to smile, but it came out looking pained. “Because the message they sent from his device.”

He pressed another button and brought up another hologram, this one displaying three simple lines of text.

_We have him._

_We will contact you soon enough._

_Do not try to retrieve him._

Fox wasn’t sure if the lack of overt threats was a good or bad sign.

“How did they even get past our security network in the first place?”, an even-keel-sounding canine woman of indeterminate breed wearing a finely-pressed uniform asked. “They were able to make it all the way to the hotel without anyone noticing – how?” Her question was ostensibly directed at Peppy, but she was staring at a lizard sitting a few chairs down who kept toying nervously toying with his collar. Fox knew he was the one in charge of the PM’s security detail – they’d already cleared him of any wrongdoing, but Fox guessed his job probably wasn’t going to exist by the end of the day regardless of how this played out.

“We don’t know”, Peppy answered. “But we’re working on it. Our primary focus is on getting Hart back though – we can figure out the finer details later.”

The canine nodded, satisfied by the answer – but the raven next to Peppy didn’t look so pleased. “They shouldn’t have been able to”, he said. “Regardless of whatever Mr. Hot-Under-The-Collar over here did or did not bring to the table”, he gestured to the lizard, “our security was airtight – in-person _and_ through network monitoring. They shouldn’t have been able to pull this off.” He paused for effect. “In fact, they _keep_ doing things shouldn’t be able to pull off.”

The table went silent again – and this time, Peppy broke it. “What exactly are you suggesting, Mugin?” Fox’s ears perked up in surprise at the name. “Choose your words very carefully.”

The agent looked cowed for real this time, but he continued regardless. “Corneria is the best there is – maybe overestimating our capabilities, but I don’t think I am. Fichina is one thing, but now this?” The mask fell a bit, and he looked worried about what he had to say. “Someone must be feeding them information.”

The bear, Keslav, slammed his fist on the table again. “See? _See!? _It all comes back to Venom! Bowman is Andross’ nephew! His people broke into The Spire, he’s already admitted it! He gave the info away to the terrorists!”

“I did it to protect my people from _you!_”, Dash yelled back.

Fox made desperate eye contact with Minister Mirno, sitting at Dash’s side. The Anglar got the memo and spoke up. “Senator Bowman, perhaps now is not the time to –”

“_Ohhhh_, let the _Anglar_ speak!”, Keslav bellowed. “_That’ll_ win us over to your side!

Peppy’s voice joined in, berating Keslav, but it all devolved into a shouting match, with no one voice able to carry over the others. Mirno looked back at Fox apologetically, and Fox just shook his head and mouthed “_don’t worry about it_”.

Krystal and Falco chose that moment to arrive, both looking flabbergasted at the sight of roughly twenty full-grown animals yelling at each other across the table, their loud voices starting to sound more like traditionally animalistic cries. A feline even _snarled _at an eagle, and the eagle squawked back at them.

A bland-sounding computer-generated voice starting cutting through the din, repeating the same message over and over.

_Transmission Incoming_.

Fox put his fingers to his lips and whistled, startling the animals out of the argument and drawing their attention to the console display. The sounds of arguing dissipated as Peppy rose his paws for quiet. An anxious aura enveloped the room.

Peppy looked pointedly at Mugin, who nodded and left the room. The rabbit took a calming breath and pressed the button to answer the call.

“This is General Peppy Hare of the Cornerian Navy”, he said calmly, but with a firm undertone. “To whom am I speaking?”

A sound that might have been a thoughtful hum or a piece of heavy machinery starting up came from the other side of the line. “_I’m glad it’s you_”, a rough, metallic voice answered conversationally. “_It means your people are taking this seriously, then. _Good_, good._” Minister Mirno’s eyes widened at the sound of the voice, and he swiftly scribbled something out and handed it to Peppy.

Fox didn’t need to read the message to know this must be General Baloz.

“_There’s a serendipitous beauty to all of this, isn’t there?_”, the voice continued. “_That the planet that wrought my downfall should be the staging ground for my ascension. In Aquas’ waters was I vanquished – and in its waters am I baptized anew, an apostle of the coming age._”

Falco sardonically rose a single brow at the pronouncement. Under other circumstances Fox might’ve been right there with him, but the Anglar had proven himself too dangerous to discount on the merits of being a bloviator.

Fox knew too well how dangerous these sorts of people could be.

“_Your feeble excuse for a Prime Minister is with us, safe and sound as can be._” A pause, filled with what sounded like a pained, rattling breath. “_That may change, depending on the actions you take in the next few minutes._”

Peppy drummed his fingers together. “I’m listening.”

Another metallic sound, this one possibly a laugh. “_We’re going to make a broadcast_”, Baloz continued. “_We want it patched through across the extranet – on every comm device, every tabletop, every holo-set on every planet in Lylat. Do this thing, and we will return the deer._”

Mugin walked back into the room and Peppy’s eyes darted to him. The raven looked frazzled as he shook his head.

Peppy paused and dipped his head.

“…Alright”, he answered. Fox wasn’t the only one who gasped.

“_It’s good to know there are reasonable Cornerians… if only a few_”, Baloz answered, and the line went dead.

Keslav pounded his fist on the table again. “_Are you out of your goddamned _mind!?” It looked like more of attendees were on his side this time – even _Dash_ eyed Peppy with surprise.

“We never negotiate with terrorists”, the female canine commander said solemnly, visibly disappointed.

“_I didn’t have a choice!_”, Peppy shot back angrily before taking a breath to calm himself. “We couldn’t trace the signal.” He gestured to Mugin, still standing awkwardly in the doorway.

“Well why the hell _not!?_”, the grizzly yelled.

“Because they obviously have a way past our telemetry grid”, Mugin sniped at him. “I told you – we’re compromised.”

A funereal pall overtook the assembled animals – Fox decided to take the initiative and dispel it.

“There’s another way to trace their signal”, the vulpine said. “A way they can’t work around. Something that doesn’t involve comms or extranet surveillance.”

“Preposterous”, Keslav spat. “What you’re proposing would require a full, in-person sweep of the planet. It’d take _weeks_, and you’d need millions of personnel.”

Fox shook his head. “No.” He turned to face Krystal, an apologetic look in his eyes.

“We only need one.”

……….

Krystal concentrated, and concentrated, and concentrated some more.

It was funny – she could pick out a single animal in the wide vacuum of space, or the location of an enemy encampment from leagues away, but homing in on an individual within her general vicinity was apparently too difficult for her.

_Focus_, she told herself, dispelling those intrusive doubts. They weren’t fair comparisons, anyway.

Bella was the only living being in her pocket of space – not to mention an incredibly powerful psychic. Finding her on that abandoned station in Meteo was like spotting an eye-wateringly bright beacon at sea. And an enemy encampment was a large group of people in a seemingly incongruous location, usually tense and battle-ready. Noticing that was difficult, but not overly so.

Locating a single individual on a densely-populated planet though? Krystal thought she was entitled to some uncertainty.

Attempting to tune out the people surrounding her only made the task more difficult, as every one of them was almost as agitated as she was. It didn’t help that the mental ‘scent’ she was tracking was comparatively diffuse, either. She barely knew the Prime Minister – and reviewing the memories of others who knew him more closely hadn’t helped since none of them were empaths, and therefore didn’t have any memories of what his psyche ‘looked’ like.

It didn’t matter how much she let herself flow into that limbo-state of pure mind and memory and thought – there was no way she was going to be able to single out Hart like this.

She wasn’t willing to give in that easily, though. She took another deep breath, plunging herself even deeper into the sea of consciousness surrounding her – it made Aquas look shallow in comparison.

_“How long will it take her?”, said the layered ball of anger in the shape of a bear. But no, that was wrong – only the first few layers were angry, painted over each other in successive coats of thicker paint, all to hide a core of self-doubt in the middle._

_“Don’t rush her”, the golden fox-shape answered. Was he gold because of how good he was, or because that was how she saw him? Were those things even different from each other?_

_The pulsing red bird-shape at his side said nothing, but she felt his conviction all the same. He was so _stalwart_: such a clear, defined right hand of the fox-shape._

_There was another bird-shape too, one that made her more uneasy, though she couldn’t say why. He was so ensconced in shadow she couldn’t tell what lied beneath – if anything lied there at all._

_The bronzed rabbit-shape was as gold as the fox-shape, but flecked with dirt and rust. Long in the tooth._

_She stopped herself then – stopped herself from psychoanalyzing the people who surrounded her. They weren’t her focus. They _couldn’t_ be her focus if she was to succeed._

_Their voices fell away. The _room_ fell away, if anything in this place that wasn’t a place could be said to ‘fall’. She wasn’t looking for people anymore. She was never going to find her quarry that way. There were too many animals. _So_ many animals. Each an individual, with their own psyche, and mind, and thoughts and souls and_

_She caught herself to keep from tumbling. Re-centered. Branched out into the realm of pure emotion._

_There had to be some network of minds in this sea of emotions that would stick out to her – a ‘place’ where concepts like fear, tension, cruelty, and malice would congregate. _That_ would be where their assailants were hiding – and Hart would be with them._

_She’d know it when she sensed it, because she’d already sensed it before. She couldn’t find a psyche as indistinct to her as Hart’s – she barely remembered what he felt like._

_But the taste of blood was something she’d never forget._

_She felt it rising, coming closer. The relative tranquility of the sea of thought breaking into waves and eddies – a bloody brine cresting the tides._

There_._

She opened her eyes, and the assembled animals stopped arguing – she’d been in so deep she hadn’t even noticed them anymore.

“I know where they are”, she said calmly.

Peppy breathed a sigh of relief. She saw Fox trying (and failing) to fight himself from smiling in such tense circumstances. She won her own battle, though it was close.

But their respite was short-lived. Another transmission cut across the relieved assembly, dulling the aura of hope that’d only just taken root.

“Krystal”, Peppy said as he handed her a pad. “Start writing down everything. We need to take this.”

She nodded firmly and began typing out the details of the location on the pad as soon as she grabbed it from him.

Peppy made one last sweep of the room before answering the call, as if to say, ‘_any objections?_’

There were none.

“I take it you’re ready to send your message”, Peppy said as soon as he pressed the button. Krystal could sense he was emboldened by her success. She tried to not let it get to her head.

“_We are_”, the voice of Baloz responded. The Anglar whose mind was always full of the taste of blood. “_Patch us through on a holo-feed. I want it everywhere. No exceptions_.”

Krystal handed the pad back to Peppy as Baloz spoke. He quickly pored over it before passing it down along the table’s attendants and giving her a small thumbs-up.

“Will do”, he answered calmly. Several of the attendants quietly got up and left, including Keslav and Mugin. Krystal could already sense them sending new orders to their units, equal parts apprehensive and optimistic. Falco gave her a small slap on the back.

They remained quiet as Peppy activated the emergency broadcast system. The assailants may get their wish to proselytize on a system-wide scale, Krystal thought – but they’d be in prison within the hour. She was confident of that now.

That nascent confidence wavered at the sight that now overtook their holo-feed – that was taking over every feed in Lylat.

Prime Minister Hart sat at a ratty office desk in what looked like a warehouse, his expression completely unreadable.

“_Good evening, citizens of Lylat. And good morning, and good day, depending on your planet_.” He paused.

“_There is much we need to discuss_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! It's new chapter time. I'm not going to be responding to comments for these semifinal chapters (including the one before this) because I don't want to get into story discussions when there's lots of twisting and turning going on in the plot. I'll be more than happy to talk shop when Promises on Aquas is complete.
> 
> Thanks for kudos, comments and criticism as always!


	13. Chapter 13

Two animals wearing heavily-padded technicolor bodysuits vied for dominance on the narrow walkway – each push from one against the other came out clumsily due to the thick cushioning surrounding all of their limbs.

Finally, the rooster was able to shove the mink clear off, and into the pillow pit below.

“And that’s a knock – _knock_ – KNOCKOUT!”, the host announced enthusiastically as the studio audience applauded. The mink climbed out of the pillow pit with a devastated expression, probably thinking of the large cash prize he’d never get his paws on. The rooster danced an inarticulate jig from up on the catwalk as blaring, synthetic victory music rang out and glowing confetti rained from the ceiling.

The intense excitement of the host and audience didn’t make it past the boundaries of the holoset. The old hound in the hospital bed was barely paying any attention to what was going on anyway. The program was just background noise to him.

Loud, annoying background noise.

He took another sip from his flask. The whiskey was technically a contraband substance in the hospice, but the surface of Solar would freeze over before Pepper let the staff tell him what he could and could not drink, adult diaper status be damned. He was well on the way to that endless night that awaits everyone regardless: whatever scant time he lost killing off liver cells was trivial at this point. No, he was going to _enjoy _his dwindling existence in the mortal coil – at least, as much as he could.

Though the whiskey wasn’t actually helping him with that, now that he thought on it. A drink was only as good as those you shared it with; and right now, Pepper’s only company was a Ficus-plant below the window, a fern on his nightstand, and a succulent by the door. He rose his flask in a toast to them, wondering how far you had to go before sarcastic gestures became symptoms of dementia.

He closed his eyes and tried to remember times long by, but all that came were past instances where he’d drank by himself like this:

Sitting at his desk after his wife was gunned down by one of Andross’ goons, tears rolling down his cheeks.

Hearing the news that James McCloud had been betrayed and blown to smithereens.

When he learned the full extent of the damage the Aparoids had done to his body, and that he’d never walk again.

He opened his eyes slowly and stared at the dancing people on the holoset. He wondered if any of them knew how precious their lives were – if they knew how many bodies lay in unmarked graves or vaporized in the vacuum of space in order to achieve their right to dance in colorful costumes. He wondered if it was fair to judge them for it, one way or the other.

His thoughts were interrupted by an unwelcome intruder.

“_Good evening, citizens of Lylat. And good morning, and good day, depending on your planet. There is much we need to discuss_.”

Pepper audibly groaned and reached for the remote – the inanity of daytime game shows was one thing, but the inanity of Corneria’s current Prime Minister was another. He had enough dignity left to know he didn’t want to suffer through another one of Hart’s press conferences.

“_I love Lylat_”, the cervine began, inevitably about to begin another one of his trademark rhapsodies. “_Its people, its history, its culture – Lylat forever lies at the center of my heart. There is nothing more important to me than the System which I call home. Which is why you _must_ trust me when I say this: Lylat has lost its way_.”

The hound tried to change the station to something else, but the remote wasn’t working. He groaned again, even louder this time – the damn thing probably needed a change of batteries. Day-drinking and stewing in bad memories was an awful way to spend his time, but he still preferred it to listening to Hart talk, which he apparently now had no choice but to do. He pressed a button on his bed to call the nurse – it was supposed to be used for emergencies, and this was certainly one of those.

“_Once, we were explorers – pioneers, bravely charging into the unknown. Our historians tell us the ancient starfarers and warlords did what they did for power, and profit. I tell you now: This. Is. A. Lie._”

Pepper resigned himself to his fate and watched while he waited for the nurse to arrive. Hart was speaking well, but he looked… _off_, somehow. Ragged. His clothes were ruffled, and his eyes kept shifting around, as if he was scoping out threats. Come to think of it, his desk looked like crap too – it’d been a while since Pepper visited the Prime Minister’s office, but he didn’t remember the desk up there being painted with splotches of rust.

“_Our forebears didn’t charge into the wild expanse of space for such beggarly cause. No: they made the plunge because they knew what it meant to live, to _truly_ live. They set out into that great, starry sea with a primal call to adventure in their hearts. They fought, conquered and killed their enemies for dominance – for pride. They knew life was only valuable if one was willing to risk everything to live it to its fullest. They were _animals!”

His eyes narrowed as he stopped watching, and started listening. What the _hell_ was he talking about? Pepper grunted as he reached for his comm-device. He didn’t know if Hart had lost his mind, or was on some drug-fueled binge, or _what_, but Peppy would know.

“_We’ve fallen far from that ancient ideal, I’m afraid. Where once we were our own gods – our own masters – we now meekly capitulate to a mindless, faceless system of unwritten rules that tells us we are nothing but cogs in a perpetual motion machine. We live for peace, and tolerance, and security, and stability, and profit, and law, and and and and and _and!_ A litany of false idols, each one as unfulfilling as the next_.”

Hare wasn’t answering. Pepper ignored that tingling pinprick of anxiety that told him something was wrong, despite the fact he’d honed his instincts to a razor edge over a lifetime spent fending off the worst sorts of criminals. He told himself his gut feeling must be going haywire as he dialed Hugin next.

“_Don’t you ever wonder why your life feels like something is missing? Why, no matter what you do or accomplish, it’s never enough? It’s because we lead lives of complacency, toiling away under a social order so rigid and unyielding most don’t even consider the possibility of rebelling against it. Not even those at the very pinnacle of Cornerian society escape it – I-I am as much a prisoner to this perverse rule as anyone else_.”

Pepper didn’t think he’d ever heard Hart stutter before. Unfortunately, Hugin wasn’t answering either. Peppy decided to call Admiral Besherba next – she was usually in the know.

“_But do not worry, for I come bearing good news. Just as we have fallen into this pit of vacuous half-lives, we can crawl our way back out. It will not be easy. In fact, it _must_ not be easy, for ease itself is the root of the infection that’s ailed us so_.”

Besherba wasn’t answering. Neither was Carrol, or Ranulf, or Keslav, or Nadet – no one was answering him. Were they all busy? Or was Pepper just too low-priority these days to warrant talking with?

“_Hard days are ahead, citizens of Lylat. Hard – and necessary. The tyranny of law must be abolished, so that we may live free. The despotism of finance must be burned out, so that we may live unfettered. The oppression of life-denying social norms must be overthrown, so that we may live as masters of our own destiny. There is but one true law, and it is the law of nature. So unshackle yourself from your egos! Let go of the chains with which you hold yourself in check! We are beings of tooth, and claw, and wing and horn – it is long past time we act as such again. We are our id, and it burns for liberation_.”

Pepper just watched in silence, aghast. The damn deer must have had a full-on psychotic meltdown.

He didn’t _look_ insane, though. The speech was seemingly over, but he continued to sit at the desk regardless. Whatever spark he’d let into his mien was gone – now he just looked afraid.

“…_Are we done, here?_”, he asked, oblivious to the fact the camera was still rolling. “_I’ve done what you asked_.”

“_Not quite_”, a rocky voice with a metallic twang responded from offscreen. “_We added another line_.”

Hart frowned, realizing he must have still been live. He cleared his throat and continued to read from what Pepper now realized was a teleprompter.

“_Though I may be a victim to the cult of ego that holds Lylat in its grip, ignorance of evil is not innocence of committing it. I am at guilt for perpetuating the corruption of the soul of animalkind. I have lived a life dedicated to fostering the further growth of infection. Now I prepare to die as…_”

He stopped. Pepper didn’t like to think in terms of stereotypes, but there was no way around it. Hart was a deer in the headlights.

“_…I p-prepare to die as recompense. I hereby sentence myself… sentence myself t-to…_”

He turned back to face the person off-screen. “_You’re joking. This wasn’t part of the deal. You said you’d let me go if I gave your speech. You didn’t say _anything_ about this. If you think I’m going to sit by meekly and le–_”

A flash and a whistle, and Hart was face-down on the rusted-out desk. Pepper was vaguely aware of the sounds of gasps and startled screams coming from elsewhere in the hospice.

As the corpse of the prime minister smoldered, the animal he was talking to came into view. The Anglar balanced on a cane in one hand and held a smoking blaster in the other. He approached the camera, giving Pepper a good view of his mangled, scorched visage.

“_You heard the man. Hard days are ahead_.” The Anglar tilted his head to the side as he took a pained breath. “_But don’t fear them. Rejoice._”

The feed went dead for a second – then cut back to the game show studio. The animals wearing brightly-colored padded costumes looked thunderstruck, and the audience was alternatively whispering and crying.

Pepper didn’t have time to process any of this before a veritable squadron thundered into his room, an even split between nurses and security personnel. He heard their words about moving him to a more secure location, but he didn’t really _listen_ to them.

He’d tried calling Peppy again already, to no avail.

There was nothing to be done for it. The old hound was no longer a factor. This was Peppy’s mess to clean up, now.

The thought didn’t fill Pepper with any sort of satisfaction.

# XIII

An intricately detailed hologram map displaying the nearby underwater city of Maresotto hovered above the circular conference table, rotating slowly, its blue glow casting the assembled animals in a vaguely underwater light.

Fitting, Fox thought, given the city’s location.

“Thanks to Krystal, we’ve managed to pinpoint their general location”, Peppy said as a section of the city shifted from blue to red. It was an unusual layout – the city was contained inside of a reinforced ‘bubble’ of transparent plasteel, with a series of equally translucent travel-tubes connecting it to the surface. The part of the city now tinted crimson was located off to the side of the metropolis proper. “It’s a mostly-abandoned warehouse district that was used as a staging ground to construct a large portion of the city’s infrastructure, as confirmed by Mr. Granota.”

The teal toad nodded politely at Peppy’s acknowledgement. It was highly unusual to bring a civilian into a planning session like this; but Warwick Granota was the man in charge of building the city in the first place. His insight was invaluable for figuring out how to approach the mission.

“We’re going to be organizing two separate assault units, each made of several strike teams.” Glowing yellow triangles started to form up outside of the city-sphere. “As Mr. Granota’s confirmed, there’s a partially-hidden access entrance near the bottom of the city-structure, used for maintenance and emergency purposes. Both units will enter the city via this access and disembark inside, where security transport vehicles will be prepped and ready for use, courtesy of local law enforcement.” The triangles materialized inside the sphere and started to converge on the assailants’ location. “Unit Alpha will make landfall and storm the complex. Unit Beta will stay airborne and provide support. Both Unit leaders will provide more details to their respective members momentarily, as we prep for the mission.”

He paused and looked at the assembly from over his glasses, the milky blue glow of the map giving him a gaunt countenance. He didn’t seem to look at anyone in particular, but Fox felt like he was being laser-analyzed all the same. “I don’t need to tell you that there are no special considerations here. There are no civilians in the area, no important infrastructure to avoid damaging, and no hostages to be procured.” His face twitched, threatening to turn into a vindictive grimace. “Capture when you can. Kill when you can’t. Dismissed.”

“_Sir, yes, sir!_”

The chorus of voices responding to an admiral’s command was never a quiet thing, but it felt much louder in Fox’s ears this time. The assembled animals started to file out, separating into their respective units and teams. Fox saw dogs, cats, birds, reptiles, ungulates – so many different animals, so many different home planets, all living and working under the banner of Lylat. Of Corneria.

_Beings of tooth, and claw, and wing and horn._

He shook his head to dispel the thought. It didn’t matter if they were all different species, or what planet they came from. Cornerians, Fortunans, Katinans, Aquasians – they were all Lylatians, and they’d worked too damn hard over the course of literal eons to achieve the peace they now had. _Fox_ had worked too hard.

_But do you really _want_ peace?_, an unbidden and unwanted voice from deep, deep within Fox asked himself. Krystal had called them ‘intrusive thoughts’.

_You love to fly. You love to shoot. You’re a hero, and you _love_ it – but you need conflict to be what you love to be, don’t you?_

He pushed the thought down. It wasn’t the first time it’d come creeping into his headspace, and it wouldn’t be the last.

But now wasn’t the time to start having an existential crisis – not when they were in the middle of a real, physical, tangible one.

“Ready to fly, McCloud?”, Bill’s loud, _way_-too-cheery-for-the-circumstances voice rang out as he clapped Fox on the back hard enough to hurt a little. “You’re a lucky bastard – they got you on Unit Beta. I’m stuck leading the ground assault.”

Fox rubbed his back, but smiled all the same, if weakly. “Guess you haven’t earned your wings yet, _commander_.” That got a roaring laugh out of Bill, which in turn got some shocked and dismayed looks from a few of the animals around them.

“_Ahhhhh_, fuck ‘em”, the stocky canine said as he noticed where Fox’s gaze was landing. “They don’t get it. Most of them haven’t served long enough yet, you know? They haven’t figured out that you gotta keep your outlook positive if you don’t want to fall apart when shit hits the fan.” He grinned, but Fox could tell it was a little sad. “And let me tell ya – this is some _serious_ shit-hitting we got going on right now. I’m talking, full-on, diarrhea, jammed all up in central air, spreading crap particles all over your house type shit, man.”

Fox laughed earnestly this time – he knew Bill was right. He ignored his intrusive fears and the unhappy side-eyes he was getting from the other animals in the room; they didn’t really matter, not in the grand scheme of things.

“Only thing’s got me worried is my Unit”, Bill said, quieter this time. “I was joking about the ‘not-serving’ thing; most of them are experienced, even if they got sticks so far up their asses it gives ‘em stomachaches – but they’re fucking _pissed_, man.”

Fox looked over the crowd and had to agree. “Can you really blame them, though?”, he asked, continuing to speak softly. “They just watched the prime minister get assassinated live over the holonet.”

Bill shook his head. “That’s only the half of it, dude. A lot of these guys are Aquas natives.”

“…So?”

“_So_, the PM got whacked by Baloz. The _Breaker_.” He didn’t have to explain any further – Fox hadn’t thought to consider how the Aquasians would feel about fighting the man responsible for wreaking so much havoc on their own planet in the past. “These guys here?”, Bill continued. “They’re out for _blood_. Which, hey, more power to them – but I can’t rely on that in the heat of the moment. I need level heads, not a team full of people on a revenge trip.” He leaned back away from Fox and started speaking in a normal tone of voice again. “But hey, you take what you can get, right? We’ll make it work.”

“Yeah…”, Fox responded, mulling it over. He hated himself for suggesting what he was about to suggest, but he knew he needed to throw it out there. “Listen, Bill… if you need some people to balance things out a bit… I might have a few. Maybe.”

The dog’s ears perked. “Oh? I thought Star Fox was already handling support?”

“Yeah... But I’m not talking about us.” Fox rubbed the back of his head. “I don’t know if I’d call them ‘level heads’, but they get good results.” He let his paw drop and smiled apprehensively. “That is, as long as they _want_ to help, which they might not…”

“Say no more”, Bill cut him off with a grin. “How much cash we talking? I know you mercs never do anything for free, you unpatriotic dogs.”

……….

Wolf picked up the assault rifle and looked it over with the nonchalant, appraising eye of an antiquer scouring the findings of a garage sale. It was well-made, unsurprisingly – only the best of the best for the dominant military force of the system. High capacity, good heft, sophisticated scope; no branding anywhere, as was standard for state armaments, but he guessed it was a Talus Foundry product by the style.

He carelessly let it drop back onto the table with a clang, earning an angry look from the arms-man. “Those are _expensive_, you know”, the Husky chided.

Wolf shrugged. “Then they should be solid enough for me to drop without damaging them.”

The prickly canine pursed his lips, looking as if he’d just bitten into an unusually sour lemon.

Wolf ignored him as he continued to peruse the selection. Blasters and defensive paraphernalia of all types were laid out on the steel table, lit by a single fluorescent lamp hanging over the room, giving everything a gray, washed-out look. Wolf passed over the larger weaponry – his trusty sidearm was more than enough in that department. He snagged a few different types of grenades though, along with some protective tactical armor.

“What about this one?”, Fay asked the weapons procurer, pointing to a gatling gun almost as tall as she was. “It could probably tear through a tank!”

“It can, and it does”, Panther answered her question before the Husky had a chance. “It’s also designed strictly for large animal use – so unless you’re about to suddenly become a rhinoceros, I’d suggest something else.”

Fay sighed, but acquiesced. Wolf distractedly watched the two of them compare weaponry, Panther giving Fay pointers on which types of guns were best suited for different purposes as she listened with rapt attention.

He felt a shiver crawl down his spine when he remembered she’d almost _died_ only a few hours ago, that ridiculous towering banana crown she’d insisted on wearing being her saving grace. One of the snipers apparently misjudged what they were looking at and aimed for the top of the headpiece rather than her actual head, giving her enough time to drop to the floor. She’d been beside herself with excitement when she told Wolf the story – had barely even noticed the blood that caked his muzzle and torso, the obvious shellshocked state he’d been in.

And now her life was about to be on the line again, freely chosen this time. Wolf hadn’t even had a chance to vote on whether they were taking this mission one way or the other: Panther and Fay both jumped at the opportunity the second it arose. Corneria had a sudden, pressing need for additional boots on the ground, and they didn’t have the time to wait for official reinforcements to travel to Aquas. This was a now-or-never decision – and two thirds of Star Wolf had chosen the former.

The damned of it was that Wolf would’ve chosen to go too, had he had the chance before getting immediately outvoted. What did that say about him, that he was willing to not only risk his own life, but the lives of others, with so little consideration? And risk them for what – cash? Is that what all of this was for? Star Wolf was just a squad of hired killers who happened to be taking contracts from the right people, then?

It _had_ to be that, because it certainly wasn’t out of any loyalty to the fucking Cornerian government. It _couldn’t_ be. Wolf was a survivor, not an idealist – who happened to be steering the starship that was the Lylat System was none of his concern.

“You guys ready to head out?”, their mission leader asked as he stepped into the room. The stout canine had an air of nervous, buoyant energy about him. “Because as soon as you finalize your gear, I’m giving the briefing. We gotta get this show on the road.”

Wolf nodded. Commander Grey (he refused to think of him as ‘Bill’, they weren’t close enough for that) was obviously itching to go. “Picked your toys, yet?”, he asked Panther and Fay. The feline bowed his head, and Fay shot him an eager salute.

Wolf looked back at Grey. “Looks like we’re all good here.”

“Great”, the commander said. “Follow me, then.”

They trailed behind him as he led them through the hangar and onto a bulbous, ungainly shuttle that Wolf recognized as a dual airborne/submersible vehicle. Wolf led his teammates to file into the somewhat crammed space, pointedly ignoring the looks he was getting from more than a few of the servicemen surrounding him. Some were not unlike how the Husky arms-man looked at him: like they’d bitten into something bitter and were trying to hide their burgeoning disgust. Most were simply curious, a few not-so-hidden pointed fingers in his direction and whispered comments between comrades, wondering why such a controversial figure as Wolf O’Donnell was onboard.

Then there were a few looks Wolf didn’t know what to do with: they were neither confused, nor unhappy. He didn’t know what to call them, other than ‘expectant’. He gave in and made eye contact with one of these last types, an avian, just to satiate his curiosity. The bird looked surprised at first – but then his eyes lit up, and he gave Wolf a respectful nod.

This, more than anything else, disturbed Wolf, and shook him to his core.

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen”, Grey’s voice rang out over the assembly. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed or not, but our Prime Minister just got assassinated – and his killer’s sitting pretty just a few clicks away from here. I can’t pretend to know how that makes _you_ feel, but me? I’m a little pissed, to be honest.”

A chorus of laughs, agreements, and calls for blood followed – he calmed them down by lowering his paws in a disarming gesture. “Good to know I’m not alone.” More laughter, but it quickly subsided as his expression shifted into a more businesslike countenance. “You already know the general details, but here’s how this is going to go down: we’re going to ride this ugly lump of a shuttle into the city, and then shift over to aerial transport vehicles once inside. We’re going to make proper landfall here:”

He pressed a button and brought up a holo-map that rose Wolf’s hackles. He was more than experienced enough to recognize a messy situation, and the morass of stacked warehouses and half-finished factories hovering in the middle of the room looked like mayhem in the making. At a quick glance, he instantly recognized at _least _six different chokepoints and potential shooting galleries. This was going to be a sniper’s heaven – which boded ill, given how skilled the assailants were at the wedding.

“The plan is to land the transports at a few different locations along the outside of the district and secure the perimeter. If this turns into a siege, then it turns into a siege – we have more than enough people and resources to starve them out, especially when reinforcements from other systems arrive. Air support from the lovely Unit Beta will provide a constant blanket of cover fire and take out any potentially nasty surprises they might have waiting for us.”

The holomap disappeared. “I’ll be straight with you – as you’ve probably already figured out, we don’t have a lot of intel on what we’re walking into, but this is a time-sensitive op. These guys have already proven themselves to be killers, and they could do a lot of damage to the city if we don’t take them out ASAP. I think we’d all prefer a more detailed plan of action, but we don’t have the luxury. It’s now or never, people.” He let the businesslike demeanor drop, and a dangerous smile lit up his face. “So who’s ready to kick some ass?”

Another choir of enraged optimism overtook the unit, and Grey took a seat next to Wolf as the shuttle started to move.

“You’ve done this a lot”, Wolf said quietly as the shuttle resounded with the all-consuming noise of activating jets. It was a flat, neutral comment – he was simply stating the obvious.

Grey chuckled all the same. “What gave it away?”

Wolf turned ever so slightly to look him in the eye. It was obvious the commander was a natural-born leader who played up his own persona to rally the troops. He combined a call to action with a liberal dose of self-deprecating humor when he spoke, doing his best to get the crowd equal parts furious and _just_ cheerful enough to temper the fury from overriding their focus. For Wolf, who used to use the same tactics back on Sargasso, it was like looking into a funhouse mirror version of himself.

No, that was wrong. It was the other way around. _He_ was the funhouse mirror version of Grey.

He didn’t answer the canine’s question as the shuttle exited the hangar and dove into the depths of Aquas’ sea, painted a deep indigo by the pristine night sky above.

As the shuttle continued to descend, Wolf more clearly made out the shimmering, multicolored lights of the underwater city getting bigger as they approached, distorted by the refraction of both the water and the transparent, sealed ‘bubble’ that surrounded them. It was every bit as beautiful a sight as it had been from the surface when he and Fox saw it from the beach that pristine night.

_Damn shame it’s about to be sullied_.

Wolf wasn’t sure if he was thinking about the city, or his memories.

……….

_“Absolutely not.”_

The words haunted Krystal’s mind as their shuttle plunged ever-deeper into the cerulean sea, the twinkling metropolis of Maresotto looming ever larger with their continued approach. It was a beautiful, dreamlike sight: a city set adrift within a soap bubble, precious in its apparent impermanence. The effect was purely visual though, as the city extrastructure was incredibly secure. Granota’s engineers really knew their stuff.

She tried to focus on the mental landscape of the city in preparation for her mission role – map out the conscious thoroughfares and subliminal back alleys – but her thoughts refused to leave those two words alone, circling back to them and forcing them once more into the forefront of her waking mind. It was a distraction she couldn’t afford to let pull her aside, but one she struggled to quash all the same.

Perhaps it wouldn’t have been such an invasive thought if she hadn’t been tapped into both of their thoughts at the time – but she hadn’t had the opportunity to properly focus in order to tune them out, foisted upon them as the situation was.

She, Fox and Falco were all geared-up and ready to board the shuttle when Slippy had appeared in the hangar bay, visibly haggard and yet suited up for flight combat himself. She’d exchanged a surprised look with Fox, who was guilt-racked at the time. She’d instantly known he’d neglected to comm Slippy – the weight of this thought on his mind was heavy.

Despite this, the toad had showed up as readily as he could. Fox took him aside to talk, and the contents of their argument were uncomfortably open to Krystal, as much as she might prefer otherwise. It hardly took an empath to tell Slippy was _incredibly_ emotionally compromised, and that the decision to not bring him along – as much as he might desire otherwise – was a very sound one. If that were truly the root of the matter, if Fox had uttered those words from the place of a captain doing what was best for his crew, Krystal would understand. More than that, she would _agree_.

And on a surface level, that truly was what had occurred – certainly, that was what Fox _thought_ he had done. But Krystal was privy to the formless thoughts and instincts that underpinned the actions of others, and was unable to tune out the truth:

Fox didn’t want Slippy to join them because he didn’t want Slippy to get hurt.

There would be nothing wrong with that, and she would’ve respected him even more for that train of thought, if it weren’t for the fact that Krystal sensed the deep-seated emotion that Fox gave into when he said those words. His decision was rooted not in empathy, but rather in martyrdom. Fox sought to keep Slippy safe by taking more upon _himself_. He underestimated his teammates and assumed all the responsibility and sacrifice for his own.

Slippy didn’t have to fly; Fox would do it for him. She didn’t have to be informed of crucial information; Fox would spare her and absorb it himself.

_Absolutely not. Don’t try too hard, don’t risk yourself. I’ll take all your burdens from you and add them to my own._

Did he not realize this impulse was founded in selfishness – in lack of trust? Did he not understand that he would eventually crumble under the pressure of taking the world’s troubles for his own?

Krystal tore herself away from her own internal rambling and – once more – tried to center her anxieties on the here and now. There would be time enough to worry about her teammates’ hang-ups later. Judging by the fact the shimmering, colorful city now dominated the entirety of their view, the mission was upon them. If she was ever going to put her misgivings aside and do her duty, the time was now.

“We’ll be landing in a moment”, their mission leader announced. The raven looked almost as put-out as Slippy had – she could sense him stuck in a mental battle not unlike her own, trying and failing to bury the thoughts of his brother clinging to life in a hospital bed. “The second we touch the ground, we make the transfer as efficiently as possible. You already know your mission prerogatives.”

Krystal nodded, along with everyone else in the ungainly shuttle. The nervous energy in the air was a thick miasma as the assembled animals mentally prepared themselves for what was ahead. Falco couldn’t stop tapping an unsteady beat on the floor, and Fox took increasingly deep, calming breaths.

The small flotilla of submersible vehicles slowed down and began to descend, angling towards a newly-opened porthole leading into a dimly-lit access tunnel. Local engineers were already on site, their own subs displaying blinking lights to help direct the Cornerian forces through the access. The shuttles had to float single-file through the narrow channel, surrounded on all sides by a dense network of tubing, lit only by intermittent floating lamps and the lights coming from within their own vehicles.

Their craft came to an easy stop at a juncture in the tunnel and surfaced above the waterline, floating a few feet further before setting down in a spartan, utilitarian hangar bay intended for maintenance vehicles. She exchanged one more look with her teammates, and they each nodded towards each other before joining the swift-yet-orderly crew of pilots and soldiers exiting the shuttle.

She broke off from them immediately afterwards – Fox and Falco were each going to be piloting their own aerial security vehicles to provide cover for the assault group. She could see a gathering of about twelve or so such craft on the other side of the hangar: they were hardly starfighters, but she knew the two of them could make do with just about anything, as long as it could fly and shoot.

Krystal instead headed to a nearby gunship alongside a contingent of high-ranking personnel – the gunship would serve as a de facto mobile base for the operation, and Krystal’s role was to work alongside the tacticians and comms specialists to provide the leadership with as clear an image of the battlefield as possible. She took a seat at a small, portable table set up in the center of the ship’s loading bay that displayed a holo-map of the warehouse district. She tried to empty her mind to better focus on her task but was interrupted before she had a chance to properly begin.

“You sure you’re up to this?”, Captain Mugin asked her, quietly enough that only she could hear his words. The raven was still an enigma to her, and she couldn’t say whether the question was mocking or well-intended.

It didn’t matter either way. The fact he felt the need to ask grated on her, in no small part because it resuscitated the memory of Fox’s decision, which she’d just managed to repress. As if she were so _fragile_ – as if she could survive the obliteration of her homeworld and the loss of her family, fight for the liberation of the Saurians, dive into the maw of oblivion that was the nest of the Aparoid Queen – but a teammate losing a father and one dead politician would shatter her like she was made of porcelain. On top of that, the fact the raven felt he was even privileged enough to ask her something like that when he barely even _knew_ her – the audacity was almost commendable.

Her lingering embarrassment over mistaking his identity was the match that lit the fuse.

“Are you sure you _care_, Captain?”, she struck back with an uncharacteristically cutting tone, making no attempt to speak quietly. A few of the agents and soldiers around her perked their ears, and one even turned to look at the two of them – but Mugin remained outwardly impassive. _Outwardly_, because Krystal could sense his internal mirth. That answered her initial question, anyway: he _was_ mocking her, or at least something along those lines.

His only response was a shrug, and he walked away.

She sighed loudly through her nose and began the work of immersing herself in the sea of psyches once more.

……….

“Safeties off”, Grey directed them with a curt tone of voice. A chorus of clicks served as response, echoing slightly in the dark bay of the shuttle. They’d cut the lights a moment ago in an attempt to maintain as much stealth as possible as they made the last approach to the warehouse district. It was so quiet Wolf swore he could almost hear some of the more nervous soldiers sweat. 

The lupine thumbed off the safety on his own blaster, and surreptitiously made eye contact with Panther and Fay – the former mirrored his own collected demeanor, and the latter smiled eerily. He’d been through enough with both of them at this point to trust their judgment – trust they’d have his back.

He could only hope their Cornerian allies would do the same.

“Visors down”, the commander ordered again. “Switch to infrared”.

Another chorus: this time of swift, swishing sounds as most of the assault group activated the automatic shield-visors on their helmets. Panther and Fay were part of that company, but Wolf opted to forego one. His cybernetic eye already provided all the additional wavelengths a Cornerian assault helmet had and more, and he relied heavily on his senses of hearing and smell to guide him in combat, both of which would be cut off if he sealed his head inside of a protective casing.

He was always more of a high-risk, high-reward kind of guy.

“Positions”, Grey called out – the last command before the shuttle landed and they entered the fray. What few animals were still seated or slouching got up and assembled in an orderly fashion. Wolf could feel the shuttle begin to pitch downwards under his feet, slowing in its descent. Two troopers more heavily-armed than the others took positions at either side of the bay doors, preparing to open them and provide cover fire the second the craft landed.

The commander rose his left paw, fist closed – and extended his thumb.

_Five_.

The shuttle slowed to a molasses crawl, and Wolf could already here the sound of blasterfire in the distance – whether it was the other assault teams already engaged or the aerial support unit, he couldn’t say.

Index finger.

_Four_.

He could hear Panther sigh, even through the feline’s helmet. He always sounded _sad_ before a fight. He wondered if the damn cat would ever open up about his past.

Middle finger.

_Three_.

A boom in the distance. Well, there wasn’t any doubting that one. That was _definitely_ from the aerial unit. Probably not Fox or Falco though – they were talented enough to do damage without having to employ explosives. Fox especially. Wolf never knew anyone to manage sniper-accurate shots while flying besides himself before he met the vulpine.

Ring finger.

_Two_.

Wolf felt the give of the ground beneath the shuttle floor. Metal on metal.

Pinkie.

_One_.

The vacuum-hydraulic doors slid open at the slammed paws of the soldiers positioned at either side, and a chaotic, colorful display of blaster bolts was already visible in the middle distance and in the air, set against the darkness like a fireworks show where every starburst meant death.

“_Move it! Go, go, _go!”

They filed out swiftly yet steadily at Grey’s command, stray streaks of sound and light and fury already aimed in their direction as the mercenaries noticed another contingent of assailants had landed in their midst.

Wolf and his team kept to the side of the larger unit – they weren’t soldiers, and they didn’t act like them. Didn’t think like them.

They ducked and darted from cover to cover, copiously provided by the idle machinery and empty supply crates that dotted the small field. Wolf realized the terrorists must not have had time to clear their surroundings and properly hunker down – Peppy’d made the right call in ordering an attack now instead of waiting for reinforcements.

While the well-oiled machine of Grey’s unit drove on with mechanical precision and prejudice, shooting at and taking down the contingent of mercs who’d filed out of the surrounding buildings, Wolf and his team skulked around the shadows and took out the sharpshooters hiding from behind cover and aiming from higher ground.

The distinctive whistle of a high-energy sniper bolt caused Wolf to instinctively duck behind a crate, followed closely by Panther and Fay. Luckily, the assailant’s attention wasn’t aimed at them. _Un_luckily, it was aimed at the bulk of the unit – and two more shots managed to down another two Cornerian soldiers, who were struggling to pinpoint the direction of fire.

_This is why we’re here, I guess_, Wolf thought as he dashed to a rusted-out door in the side of the multi-story warehouse before them. As he ascended the stairwells he only came across one surprised-looking reptilian merc who hadn’t even had a chance to raise his gun before Panther raised his own and fired.

As Wolf’s boot scuffed on the top floor, another bolt whistled through the air, this time in his general direction. He turned on his heel and pivoted behind a concrete column.

Fay waved her paw to get his attention – she pointed at herself, Panther, then the sniper, and drew a metal sphere from her pouch. She nodded vigorously at him.

Wolf exhaled forcefully through his nose, the sounds of gunfire still echoing from the field below them. He wasn’t into this idea, but they didn’t exactly have many other options. He reluctantly gave a thumbs-up, and didn’t miss her excited reaction as she threw the combined smoke bomb-EMP and filled the room with a thick cloud of steam – _and _disabled everyone’s sensors.

The sniper yelped as he suddenly lost visibility, both natural and augmented. Wolf couldn’t see shit himself – but he could smell just fine. He ran out from behind the column at top speed and bum-rushed the poor bearcat clear over the railing and into the courtyard below. As the electronic steam dissipated, he made out the figure of the commander in the courtyard, face obscured by his helmet. The stout canine shot him a thumbs-up.

Wolf hemmed and hawed for a second before answering it with one his own.

_This _section of the district was contained, at least.

A _boom_ so loud it shook the floor beneath Wolf’s feet interrupted that thought. He quickly regained his composure, and noticed Grey looking up at him and furiously tapping the side of his helmet. They’d been instructed to keep comms silent for the mission for fear of monitoring by the enemy – the only exception was in case of emergencies.

Wolf tapped the earpiece without hesitation. “Please tell me you’re just calling to congratulate me on that move.”

“_You might want to get out of that building, buddy_”, Grey answered without even addressing his sarcastic comment, voice tenser than Wolf had heard it yet. “_Like, _now.”

Another crushing, crumpled-sounding _boom_ resounded from beneath him – and this time, it didn’t stop, the warehouse continuing to vibrate. Wolf cut off the comms and looked desperately at his teammates, one thought playing on repeat in his mind.

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

The relative perspective of the warehouse floor began to deviate from the surface of the platform-ground outside it, the building beginning to pitch and yaw off to the side.

Wolf broke their stunned silence by violently grabbing Panther and Fay’s arms and yanking on them before letting go, trusting them to follow right on his heels as he sprinted up the stairwell to reach the roof of the warehouse.

The only way they were getting down was by going up.

The trio continued to run towards the edge of the rooftop that was veering downwards – which was thankfully not in the direction of Grey and his unit. Wolf skidded to a halt when he reached the end, Panther and Fay stopping right to either side of him.

“_Umm_, cap’n…”

“Not now”, he shut down Fay, refusing to let the fearful quavering in her voice affect his judgment. “Jump on my signal.”

“You can’t be serious”, Panther sniped.

“I _am!_”, he shouted as the building properly started to fall, ignoring the swooping sensation that climbed up his ankles and settled in his chest through sheer force of will. “Now shut up and listen to me.”

Both of them remained quiet and did their best to mirror Wolf’s stance, wound taught like a coiled spring.

“Ready…”, he said evenly as he felt the world begin to fall out from under him.

He paused, and waited – waited – _waited_ –

“_NOW!_”

He jumped with every iota of force he had off the roof of the warehouse and onto a balcony of a neighboring building, the torque and angulation of his fall throwing him into an awkward somersault as he landed. He felt something pull and snap in his left knee.

Panther and Fay landed near him, both of them more gracefully than he had – but as Fay watched the warehouse properly come all the way down, a dust cloud obscuring the wreckage, her legs started to wobble, and she made a keening sound before she collapsed on the floor beside Wolf.

The lupine rose to go help her out – and the pull turned into pain.

“_God-fucking-_damn_-it_”, he cursed, forcing himself to stand and walk regardless.

“Tendon or ligament?”, Panther asked serenely, somehow managing his composure despite the circumstances.

Wolf shot him an exhausted, withering look – as if he could possibly have any idea.

Fay managed to get up herself, but she still swayed a bit as she stood. “_Wow_…”, she said woozily. “I don’t think I want to do that again.”

Panther helped her stand steady as Wolf finally figured out what that obnoxious ringing noise in his ear was. He turned on the comm.

“_O’Donnell!?_ _You there!?_”

“We’re alive”, he answered, voice sounding like he’d just drank a carton of sand. “I think.”

A muffled laugh started and stopped. “_Glad to hear it. But we have bad news_.”

Wolf was suddenly, irrationally angry that he couldn’t display disbelieving expressions over audio. “We just jumped off a fucking building and I snapped some shit in my leg. You think _you_ have bad news?”

“_Yeah_”, Grey answered. “_The building collapsed because they drove a tank through it. And now the tank is shooting at us_.”

Wolf limped over to the edge of the balcony, every step sending a jolt of sharp, shooting pain up his leg – it felt like someone shoved a fucking sword all the way up through the middle of his shin and into this thigh.

And lo and behold, the commander was right. A vaguely globoid tank of a make unfamiliar to Wolf was progressing steadily through the wreckage of the fallen building, a _very_ mean-looking cannon affixed to its surface. As he watched, an eye-searingly bright reddish-orange blob of plasma launched from the cannon and into the courtyard beyond.

He stepped back into the relative safety of the factory and commed Grey again. “You ain’t taking that thing out, and neither are we. Get air support.”

“_Can’t_”, the commander answered. Wolf heard blasterfire behind his voice.

“Well why the fuck _not!?_”, the lupine yelled into the earpiece. Christ, the whole reason they even _had _the support unit was for these exact types of situations. He turned to look back at Panther and Fay. They were standing solidly on both of their feet, but there was no way the three of them were ready to take on a damn tank.

“_They’re busy_”, Grey responded.

Wolf wasn’t sure if his sound of aggravated exasperation stayed in his head, or if he let it out. “Busy with _what?_”, he enunciated each syllable with unchecked aggression.

The other side of the comm stayed quiet as Wolf heard the tank lob another ball of superheated plasma from outside the building.

“_The tank isn’t the only surprise they had_.”

Wolf let that cryptic message settle for a second, before he heard the unmistakable sound of more mercs entering their building.

Panther and Fay heard them too, and they quickly redrew both of their blasters.

_Fox_, Wolf thought as he drew his own and began limping to a more defensible position. _You better get your ass over here pronto_.

……….

The gyrowing rattled as he attempted to perform what would have been an impressive dive had the aircraft actually been built with such maneuvers in mind. Instead, the glorified copter awkwardly lurched downward and jerked off to the side for a few seconds before leveling out. Regardless of his clumsy handling, the move paid off – the small cloud of explosive drones passed over him instead of straight into him. He grabbed hold of the gunnery joystick and rotated the gyrowing’s mounted turret around to face the swarm, letting lose a barrage of bolts that made mincemeat of the drones.

“They’re down”, Fox stated calmly over the comms. It didn’t matter if Baloz and his goons were listening in or not anymore – they needed to coordinate to keep the drones from flying off into the city proper. “How are things looking on your end?”

“_Just peachy_”, Falco spouted back after a few seconds. “We’ve got ‘em mostly under control, unless they decide to launch another wave.”

“Which they will”, Fox responded with no small hint of sarcasm.

Falco sighed heavily over the comms. “_Yeah, which they will_.” Fox veered the aircraft around and increased his altitude, getting a good look of his surroundings. Some kind of explosion on the district-platform has leveled a building and raised a nasty dust cloud – he could see the bright, streaking colors of laser bolts through the haze. “_Think we have time to, I don’t know – actually do our jobs?_”

Fox grinned, though it was more exasperated than joyful. Their unit was _supposed _to be providing support for the assault team, but that plan went out the porthole when the drones went flying. They were amateurish creations – basically just bombs strapped to wings – but there were enough of them to be a serious problem.

Especially when they realized the drones weren’t aiming for them, but rather the populated districts of the nearby glowing metropolis. Command had broken the ‘no comms’ rule to order the aerial unit to focus on the drones above all else – civilian casualties were _not_ going to be allowed to happen.

Of course, that was what Baloz was really intending with this ploy – Fox was certain of that. The Anglar must have known they would never let the drones would reach the city. He released them to distract air support from focusing on the ground. It was one of those moves they could see coming from leagues away, but had no choice to play along with anyway.

“Let’s do what we can for as long as we can”, Fox responded, taking a look at the distressingly long list of emergency ‘pings’ he’d received from ground forces while he was busy knocking out the drones.

“_Works for me_”, Falco said before letting the line go dead.

Fox continued to eye the ground below as he switched comm-lines to the highest-priority emergency signal from the ground unit – and was immediately bombarded with Bill’s voice.

“_Fox!_”, the canine yelled. “_About damn time, man. We got a fucking _tank_ down here_.”

The vulpine’s ears perked. “Wait. _What?_”

“_Yeah, you heard me. Our guns aren’t putting a dent in this thing. It steamrolled a goddamn _building_. Help us out?_”

_Well that explains the dust cloud_, Fox thought as he shot a swift acknowledgement back to Bill before flying as fast as he could to the dog’s coordinates – which wasn’t nearly as fast as he would have liked.

Sure enough, as the haze began to clear, he made out the silhouette of a strange-looking tank – right as it charged up its main gun and lobbed a lump of painfully bright orange plasma towards a team of pinned-down Cornerian soldiers. He didn’t hesitate before activating his craft’s turret and bombarding the artillery vehicle with all he had – after ten seconds of a continuous stream, he realized this plan wasn’t going to work.

He switched on the broad channel comms. “McCloud to Beta Unit. I need a few more wings over here. We got a tank that won’t die.”

He continued to strafe around the tank, taking more shots at it, trying to distract it from Bill’s team to mixed success. He didn’t have to wait long for a trio of gyrowings to back him up. With their combined gunfire they made quick work of the tank. A successful result, but the fact they needed _four_ assault-grade gatling streams to destroy it left Fox uneasy.

“_You’re a life-saver, Fox!_”, Bill said – Fox could hear the cheers from his friend’s unit in the background of his message.

“Any time”, Fox responded. “How are you guys holding up?”, he asked

It was a perfectly professional question, but Bill must have heard right through it. “_We got split up, but Wolf and his team are fine – he just commed me a minute ago_.” Fox quietly let go of the breath he’d been holding for the last few minutes. “_You don’t even want to know what they’ve been up to, though_. _They make you guys look reasonable_.”

Fox smiled, managing to find at least some modicum of peace in the fray of combat. He was about to send back a snarky response when another voice broke across his comms.

“_Fox_.”

It was Wolf – and Fox immediately noticed that he sounded in pain. His relief at Bill’s message disappeared as swiftly as it had arrived. “Wolf – what’s your position?”

A nerve-wracking few seconds passed before the lupine answered. “_We’re at the northwest end of the complex. We need backup_. _Fast_.”

Fox quickly put aside his personal fears and reassumed a military mindset – he knew his best chance of helping Wolf was to think about the situation as rationally as possible. “Send me your coordinates, I’ll get a team over there–”

“_No_”, Wolf gritted out. “_There’s no time. We need people here _now.”

Fox steeled himself. “I’ll get there as fast as I can.” He pinged Falco and the other gyrowings as he flew towards Wolf’s position, along with trying to raise a comm-line with the command gunship for good measure. “What’s your status?”

“_Injured_.” The confirmation of Fox’s fears didn’t even faze him – he’d known it was coming. “_But not as bad as the other guy_.”

Fox felt a rush of mixed emotion. “I’m on my way. Stay on the line.”

“_Fox_”, Wolf continued. “_I’m fine. I promise. I don’t need you to come save my ass. I need you because we found Baloz – we think he’s going to run for it_.”

That piece of information did nothing to calm his nerves. “Wolf. Send me your coordinates. Now.”

A tense handful of seconds passed before they appeared on Fox’s display. “_Send them to Command, for all the good it’ll do. They won’t get here in time before he tries to escape_.”

“I know”, Fox all-but whispered as he passed the data along. Baloz must have known Wolf contacted them by now – must have known he was cornered.

And nothing was more dangerous than a cornered animal.

He opened a broad channel. “Command, assault units – we’ve found Baloz. Requesting support at the designated location.”

Fox cleared a landing zone in a disassociated haze while he waited for a response – he’d spend time worrying about how disturbing it was he was mowing down living, sapient beings later. Maybe.

“_This is Command_”, Mugin’s voice answered. “_The area’s too hot – we can’t bring the gunship within the radius._”

“Air support?”

“_Negative – Lombardi’s engaged another swarm of drones_.”

It was bad news, but not unexpected. Fox brought his gyrowing in for a smooth landing on top of the building Wolf had indicated: a ghastly-looking factory, with struts and scaffolding jutting out of it like exposed bones from a desiccated carcass. “Send me backup when you can”, Fox said.

“I’m going in.”

……….

Wolf took a deep breath and tried to will the pain away as he crouched around another corner and fired another shot at the shadowy access entrance. He wasn’t even aiming at anyone – just trying to maintain the pressure while he waited for help to arrive.

“Another one”, Panther said darkly from his rear, golden cat’s eyes staring through an infrared visor. “Coming down the stairwell.”

“Got it”, Fay acknowledged as she crept closer to the staircase with gun held aloft, taking a position at its side that would let her surprise the assailant as they descended.

Wolf just kept staring at the tunnel across from them, waiting, _daring_ these people to try and make another move. The three of them had downed at least fifteen mercs after hunkering down in their current location – the support columns and crates just made it too hard for the enemies to spot them, let alone hit them.

They’d made their way over here by accident, heading from confrontation to confrontation in an adrenaline-fueled haze, somehow chasing the proverbial rabbits back to their den. Wolf was dead-set certain they’d find Baloz down there – down in that morass of broken-down machinery and exposed wiring. The darkness of the tunnel’s maw kept drawing his eye like an object caught in the rim of a black hole, constantly circling and circling down into the center.

He only hoped they’d find more down there than oblivion.

“Cap’n…”, he heard Fay whisper. He turned to look at the enemy coming down the stairs – just in time to yell at Fay to lower her blaster.

Fox stepped into their makeshift encampment, eyeing Fay’s gun warily. She shrugged sheepishly, and the vulpine just sighed and shook his head before looking at Wolf – _scanning_ him. His shoulders sagged in relief. “Oh thank God, it’s just your leg.”

Wolf furrowed his brow and just stared at Fox with a disbelieving expression. “_Just_ my leg?” Panther rolled his eyes and Fay giggled.

Fox shook his head. “You know what I mean. I wasn’t sure if you were seriously injured or not.”

Wolf gestured at his leg, splayed out on the ground as it was. “This doesn’t count as ‘seriously injured’?”

The vulpine tilted his head and have a small shrug. “I mean, it’s not _not _serious…”

“Fine – yuk it up, golden boy.” He cocked his head in the direction of the access across from them. “Better get your head screwed back on before we go in there. We saw some of the mercs retreat that way – they distinctly mentioned an ‘exit strategy’, and I’m assuming we don’t have reinforcements coming anytime soon.”

He looked back at Fox, surprised to see the vulpine’s face contorted in a worried grimace before quickly switching back to the disaffected and under-control expression he was wearing when he walked down the stairwell. “What?” He felt bad, because now Fox looked suddenly caught in the spotlight, all three of them staring at him as they were.

“…Are you sure you should be coming with us?”, Fox asked quietly.

_Oh, _Wolf thought. So that was what this was about.

A moment passed before Wolf responded. “You’re certainly not going down there without me. That’s for sure.” He was vaguely aware of Panther and Fay making awkward eye contact with each other, clearly uncomfortable being party to this discussion.

The two canines stared at each other, and Wolf was downright surprised at how long Fox held eye contact – not many animals were able to stare down Wolf O’Donnell for even a second. They were locked in a battle of nonverbal dominance; the fact they even _were _was throwing Wolf for a loop. He’d taken it as an unquestioned fact that he was in charge, but Fox showed no sign of breaking. For a fleeting second, Wolf almost felt like he was staring down the dreaded rival McCloud of years gone by, as if they were both in the pilot’s seat and engaged in a test of talent and wills that could lead them to their deaths.

He was genuinely curious which one of them would give in first, but they were interrupted as Panther stepped between their lines of sight. “We don’t have time for this. Flip a coin, or something.”

Wolf sighed, but acquiesced. He tried to make eye contact with Fox – not to clash again, just to gauge his reaction – but the vulpine decisively looked away from him. “We don’t have to”, Fox said neutrally. “I’m not going to fight about this right now. He can come along.”

_He _can _come along_, Wolf thought. As if he had the right to rescind Wolf’s ability to do so.

Wolf stumbled a bit as he stood up, earning a wince from Fox, but he quickly righted himself. He’d hold it together until this was all said and done – _then_ he could fall over in debilitating pain. He gestured towards the dark corridor ahead with his blaster.

“Shall we?”

……….

There was something about their surroundings that didn’t sit well with Fox, and he knew exactly what it was. How many times had he chased enemies down into an abyss within an abyss like this? He felt like his missions always had this tendency to lead him into nesting dolls of chasms and tunnels. He _hated _the fact he was bringing Wolf and his teammates into this – it brought back unwanted memories of the last time Star Wolf had delved into darkness alongside him.

Memories of the time he thought Wolf had died.

Those specific memories of the Aparoid conflict were ones Fox liked to keep under lock and key – when it was all said and done, none of the people he’d taken for goners had ended up actually dying, so why torture himself with those thoughts? But every once in a while, he’d unlock the box and take a peek inside, remembering all too keenly how he felt at the time.

General Pepper’s assimilation into the Aparoid hivemind, Peppy sacrificing himself to give them an opening, Wolf flying off to his death to distract the Aparoids from killing Fox instead. That last one was the one that had hurt him the least at the time, on account of his relationship with the lupine back then – or lack thereof. But even so, it struck him pretty hard when he’d thought Wolf and his team were gone for good. Like the galaxy would be less exciting without the one other pilot who’d ever given him a real run for his money; less meaningful without his rival.

As he swiveled his left ear to listen to Wolf’s exerted, painful breaths as he limped down this godforsaken corridor-maze, those dark memories took on an even more tenebrous hue. The idea that Wolf could have died back then without the two of them ever properly connecting was terrifying – almost as terrifying as the idea Wolf could die _now_ if he was unable to get himself out of the line of fire if, God forbid, another one of Baloz’s henchmen showed up down here.

He’d wanted nothing more than to order the lupine to stay put before they plunged into this void, just as he’d ordered Slippy to stay behind. But Fox wasn’t Wolf’s captain – he was his partner. Neither one of them could command the other, even for their own good. It filled Fox with an unbelievable, _visceral_ aggravation. Why did his closest friends keep trying to push themselves like this? Didn’t they realize how many people he’d lost already? How determined he was to never lose someone again?

Those thoughts continued to churn in his mind like an upset sea as he heard movement ahead. He was the only one of the quartet not outfitted with an infrared sensor, so he let Panther and Fay take point. The feline stealthily crept around a bulkhead and waved them on with a small gesture while simultaneously raising a finger to his muzzle to press for silence. As Fox approached his side and looked ahead, he understood the desire for secrecy.

They were looking down on a moderately-sized warehouse floor that would’ve been utterly unremarkable if it weren’t the fact there were twenty-odd mercs milling about and analyzing makeshift holo-screens – and two heavily-armed shark bodyguards standing watch on other side of a door at the far end. Fox swallowed and willed himself to settle. These were tough odds.

Wolf tapped him on the shoulder a little roughly and pointed to a corner of the room where a submersible vehicle not unlike the ones they’d use to get inside the city was parked next to a pool of water that didn’t have a visible bottom. Fox guessed this was the ‘exit strategy’ Wolf had mentioned. But if Baloz really was planning to run, and had the means to do so, why was he still here? Was the Anglar _that_ overconfident? He had to have been listening to their comms chatter, had to have known they were upon him. Why wasn’t he making a break for it?

Fox knew they didn’t have a choice but to engage, even if it really was a trap. They couldn’t risk the assassin of the prime minister escaping from right between their paws. He gave Wolf one last beseeching look, eyes begging him to stay up here – but the lupine remained unmoved, his violet eye every bit as stoic and impassive as his cybernetic one. Fox sighed slowly through his nose and turned away, priming his blaster. If Wolf was going to be this much of an obstinate ass about this, he was going to do everything in his power to make sure he didn’t get hit.

The four of them crouched and skulked slowly out onto the balcony overlooking the floor below, Fox moving faster then the rest of them, trying to put as much space between him and Wolf’s team as possible. For one, the more spread out they were the easier it would be to take out as many people as they could, on account of their different angles of attack.

For another, if he did this right, he’d have them aiming at himself instead of them.

He lined up the scope of his sidearm with the head of an alligator speaking quietly with an ape and fired. Just as the first hit the ground and his partner looked up in shock, he’d taken out the other. He didn’t hang around, instead moving deftly and precisely down the length of the balcony, shooting at whatever targets he could – heads, torsos, limbs, anything. He was aware of Star Wolf doing their own lifting across from him, but he guessed he’d killed more animals in the room below than the three of them combined.

The two sharks left their position at the door and stalked into the room, each wielding a heavy repeating blaster that was so large they had to hoist it around at their sides – they looked like the sort of weaponry usually mounted on a vehicle. The sharks opened fire, and the blaster bolts were heavy enough to tear straight through the thin metal of the balcony. Fox unhooked a grenade at his belt as he sprinted away from their endless stream of gunfire, tossing it down into the room below and counting the three heartbeats before it went off with a satisfying _boom_ that rattled the entire floor.

One of them was down, missing an arm and a leg, but the other was still standing, still firing.

“_Fuck!_”, he heard Wolf’s voice cry out from the direction the shark’s blasts were aimed at.

Fox’s mind went blank with rage as he hopped off the balcony and rushed the shark, only vaguely aware of what a stupid idea it was. The aquatic animal was visibly taken aback by the sudden change in tactics, but he was well-trained, quickly hoisting his over-large blaster to aim at the vulpine sprinting towards him. Fox rose his own gun at the same time and stared into the barrel of the hammerhead’s weapon instead of his eyes as he pulled the trigger.

He let out a breath as the shark fell backwards. It felt like time was frozen still.

“…Fox…”, Wolf breathed out.

Fox whipped his head around to face him, along with Panther and Fay, instantly relieved to see that none of them were harmed. The three of them looked shocked, but quickly got themselves under control.

Wolf just continued to eye him though. Fox didn’t know what to make of the look in the lupine’s biological eye – his partner’s expression was inscrutable. It wasn’t one Fox had seen before.

“Captain”, Panther stated, gesturing at the door the sharks had been guarding. Wolf stared at Fox for a second longer before turning back to the mission at hand.

“Who’s taking point?”, he asked. Fox made note of how tired he sounded. He must have been at his limit.

“I will”, Fay spoke up. Panther nodded and took up position aside her. Fox tried to look at Wolf again, but the lupine wouldn’t meet his eyes, so he drew up beside Panther and Fay instead.

Fay forcefully shoved open the door and entered the room in a crouch-walk, aiming low while Panther circled in the other direction while aiming high. Fox walked straight between them into the room proper – but their tactical entrance was pointless, as Baloz was standing unarmed by a rusted-out desk in the middle of the room.

“I’m surprised you’re still alive”, the Anglar said with a rattling voice, distorted through his breathing apparatus. He turned around to face the four of them, revealing the grisly sight of Hart’s crumpled corpse face-down on the desk. The only source of light in the room was a single cool-white colored glowglobe hanging above the desk, lighting the scene below like a small stage-play.

“It’ll take a lot more than _this_ to stop Corneria, General Baloz”, Fox said confidently.

The Anglar turned to stare at Fox specifically and started making a strange metallic wheezing sound that Fox knew must have been a laugh. “Without question, Fox McCloud”, he said after the broken-sounding laughter subsided. “But I’m afraid I wasn’t talking about you.” He rose the hand not balanced on his cane and gestured to Wolf and his team. “I’m talking about _this_ lot. I thought I had you killed back on Fichina.”

Wolf muscled his way past Fox, wearing a lopsided grin that contained not an ounce of happiness or well-meaning. “We don’t die easy.” The anger in his words was only exacerbated by the obvious physical pain he was in.

Baloz laughed again. “Apparently not.” He slowly started lowering himself to the ground, putting his cane aside and letting it roll across the floor. The assembled animals waited in a moment of silence punctuated only by the Anglar’s labored breathing.

“Well?”, he snapped at them. “Are you going to arrest me, or not?”

Fox walked towards him, gun still in hand. “You should consider yourself lucky to be alive”, he gritted out as he scanned the Anglar for hidden weapons, not finding any.

“Would you like to kill me, Fox McCloud?”, he said quietly, conspiratorially, as if letting him in on a secret. Fox was unable to keep his eyes away from the Anglar’s, and stared into them – one healthy and hale, the other scarred over permanently. “I’ve probably killed someone important to you, haven’t I?”

Fox felt the finger around the trigger of his blaster twitch; a passing ghost of a thought that he pushed aside.

“Or perhaps…”, Baloz continued, eye fixating on Wolf. “I’ve _threatened _you where you’re vulnerable?”

“That’s enough”, Wolf said definitively, limping towards the Anglar. “Another word out of you and I’m knocking you unconscious.” He cocked his head towards Panther. “Get Command on the line. Tell them we’ve got him.”

Panther nodded and contacted the gunship. Fay stood behind Baloz, eyes darting back and forth between the Anglar and the dead prime minister next to her.

Fox felt Wolf’s comforting paw on his shoulder, but it did little to settle him. He kept glancing back at Baloz, who looked positively serene, and he wondered.

What had they won?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this was a beast. One more chapter to go!


	14. Chapter 14

# XIV

Peppy sighed through his nose as he ended the call with the suddenly-promoted, now-former Vice Minister. He stowed the comm device back in his pocket, eyes still transfixed on the screen in front of him. “Anything, yet?”, he asked Mugin, and not for the first time.

The raven shook his head without turning to face him, arms folded and equally focused on the scene before them: Baloz sitting in a small, uncomfortable-looking chair parked into an equally small, uncomfortable-looking desk, all in the most spartan room they could find in the entire hotel. An LCI agent sat across from him, peppering him with questions. Peppy didn’t need to hear the audio feed to know the Anglar would only be answering in ominous vagaries – it was all he’d _been _doing since the interrogation started.

“We’re going to have to get a bit more aggressive if we want to get anywhere”, the acting captain said under his breath.

Peppy cautiously side-eyed him from over his lenses. Lylat Central Intelligence was no stranger to using torture as a method of obtaining information, but it’d been _years_ since the last time it was done… as far as he knew, anyway. One could never be entirely certain what went on off the books. “Pepper told me the LCI’s enhanced interrogation efforts didn’t help to uncover anything during the Lylat War. If it didn’t work then, what makes you think it will now?”

The raven bowed his head and let out a mirthless laugh. “That wasn’t quite where I was going with that train of thought.” He lifted it back up and shrugged. “Or who knows – maybe I was? What I was _really _getting at is if we could get Krystal in here.”

Peppy folded his paws behind his back. “She’s not a tool to be used every time we face a tough situation.”

“Isn’t she?”, the raven answered swiftly. “Aren’t we _all _tools, when the chips are down? She just happens to be a very useful one.” He grinned – it wasn’t pleasant. “Or we could always go with your idea instead. I’m an inventive man. I’m sure we could get something to work.”

The lagormorph watched the Anglar on the screen for a few more seconds. “I’ll ask her if she wants to. I’m not going to pressure her, though.” His eyes shifted focus back to Mugin – the raven didn’t realize anyone was watching him, and he was letting his mask slip. Peppy didn’t like the combination of frustration and dejectedness he saw underneath. “I want something in return, though.”

His compatriot fixed him with a calculating glare that almost made Peppy chuckle at how much it looked like his brother. “Yes?”, Mugin asked crisply.

“That you get some damn rest. You look like a mess.”

It obviously wasn’t the answer the avian expected. His expression slowly started to transition from shrewd to one barely holding back laughter. “Good thing I haven’t staked my career on my naturally handsome charm, then, I guess.”

Peppy’s reply was interrupted by another call to his comm. He stood frozen for a second, intermittently dreading the fact he had to answer and daring to hope it might be good news, all the while knowing it was obviously not going to be.

The animal on the other end didn’t even wait for pleasantries before they started speaking.

“_General_”, the aide’s voice quavered. “_The Octovarian mercenary fleet has just entered Venomian space and is currently engaging with our forces. Your presence is requested in the war room._”

He couldn’t decide which was worse: that this had happened, or that it didn’t surprise him. “On my way.” He glanced at Mugin, who’d obviously overheard the call. “Looks like it’s war, then.”

The raven eyed Baloz over the screen once more. “Looks like.”

……….

“Just like old times, eh?”, Bill said as he nudged him in the side with his elbow. Fox smiled out of obligation. He struggled to see the humor in the situation, and just couldn’t muster himself to play along with Bill’s (admittedly half-sarcastic) schtick right now. Both of them had already received their marching orders – and they led straight to Venom. 

Well, Fox’s wasn’t technically an _order_, as Star Fox wasn’t part of the Navy – but he hadn’t even toyed with the idea of not answering the call, loathe as he was to make another return journey to the planet he most despised. He knew that wasn’t fair: not to Venom’s leadership, and not to its people. But he also knew he was never getting over it. Venom had taken too much from him. The planet could be reborn as paradise and it’d still raise his hackles.

“Nah”, Falco picked up the slack and answered Bill’s question, playing with a blaster in his hands and tapping a fibrillating beat on the floor. “Old times would be us going to blow it up. Now we’re going to _defend _it.” He stopped the beat and sat his blaster aside with a sigh. “Guess that’s a good thing, though, isn’t it? That we’re all on the same side now.”

Fox looked up and into the hallway. The three of them were sitting on a bench outside the makeshift war room, waiting for Krystal to finish with Baloz. The stark contrast between the hotel décor and the military personnel flitting around everywhere was dizzying. He felt like he was the middle of one of those weird dreams where everything was ever-so-slightly-off – as if he was in a dream version of the Spire’s lobby where it was redecorated according to a vacation getaway theme. He felt terrible for the Granotas, having their hotel taken over like this. He felt terrible for Amanda, her wedding so thoroughly ruined. He felt something beyond terrible for Slippy.

“…Are we?”, he asked his friends, cocking his head towards a group of Cornerian servicemen standing on the other side of the room from a similar assembly of Venomian security forces, glancing at each other every so often, eyes lashing out like whips. He wondered how many of the Cornerians lost family members to Andross’ war. He wondered how many of the Venomians still harbored distrust for Corneria.

He trusted Peppy, and he trusted Dash. That would have to be enough.

Falco tapped him on the shoulder, interrupting his musings. Fox turned around to look up at him, and the bird gestured down the hall with his head – towards Slippy, who was approaching the three of them.

“…Hey, guys”, the amphibian said with a half-hearted wave as he reached them. “I heard the mission went well…?”

Falco scoffed, but Fox nodded. Slippy was right: regardless of everything else going on, their mission _had _gone well. They’d managed to capture Baloz and a large number of his associates with minimal casualties. “Would’ve gone even better if you’d been there”, Fox said with a smile, attempting to cheer him up. He only realized after the words were out of their mouth how bad they would backfire.

Slippy took it in stride. “Uh, hey – listen, Fox. Can we talk?” He didn’t specify talking alone, but Fox didn’t miss the way his eyes looked between Falco and Bill.

“Of course”, Fox said as he got up and walked towards him. “We’ll be back”, he told the avian and canine – Falco nodded with a vaguely worried expression, and Bill gave him a lazy salute.

The duo walked down the length of the hallway in silence as they passed by various government workers hustling from place to place, eventually reaching the courtyard garden that led to the pool and patio. The air was equally sea-salty and flower-sweet, and it helped to put Fox’s nerves at relative ease. It didn’t seem to have the same effect on Slippy. Fox opened his mouth to speak, but the anuran got the jump on him.

“I’m coming with you to Venom.”

The words Fox knew were coming, and distinctly didn’t want to hear. “Slippy…”

“L-Let me speak”, he interrupted before taking a deep breath. “I was planning to leave you guys, you know? Leave Star Fox. And I’m still going to. I…” He trailed off as he sought the words for a few seconds. “I love Amanda, and I want to live the rest of my life with her. I want to wake up with her every morning. I want _kids_, Fox. I want grandkids. I want it all.”

Fox smiled even as his heart ached.

“But I need to do this. I need to see it through. These people, they k-k-_killed_ my dad.” He shook as he got the word out. “I don’t care how compromised you think I am. I mean, I probably _am _compromised, but I’m coming along anyway. And that’s final.” He sucked in his chest and tried to stand as straight as possible. “I’m going to fight.”

The vulpine stared at some flowers to avoid looking into Slippy’s eyes – their brightly-colored petals were as orange as the plasma shots of the terrorists’ tank. “Baloz killed your father, and we already have him in custody”, he said blankly.

“That’s not the whole truth”, Slippy responded without a hint of hesitation. “Baloz isn’t in charge. If he was their leader, he never would’ve let himself get caught so easily, and the Octovarians would’ve scattered instead of attacking.” His tiny frog’s fists were balled in anger. “I’m going to find whoever’s really in charge… and I’m going to kill them.”

Fox felt a familiar and unwelcome sensation of emptiness begin to overtake him. “It won’t fill the hole.”

“HOW COULD _YOU_ KNOW!?”, Slippy exploded, pointing a finger accusingly in his direction. “You won’t let me help you get Baloz, you won’t let me help you stop this fleet – how am I supposed to get closure?” Tears of frustration coalesced at the corners of his eyes. “How am I s-supposed to _deal_ with this!”

Fox turned away from the flowers to look into Slippy’s eyes – he couldn’t have said what the amphibian saw in them, but whatever it was, it brought his storm to a swift and anticlimactic end.

“Oh… oh my _God_, Fox. I… I’m an _idiot_. I’m so sorry–”

“You’re not an idiot”, Fox cut off his rambling. “You’re filled with a blinding, righteous rage. It’s like a fire, isn’t it? Like your whole mind is burning and there’s nothing you can do to put it out.” He cautiously approached Slippy and put a reassuring paw on his shoulder. “I don’t feel any guilt over killing Andross, not even a little. But it didn’t do anything to put out the fire either.”

“…What did?”, he asked, voice croaking.

Fox frowned. “Nothing. It kept burning until it ran out of fuel.”

Slippy sighed. “…You’re not letting me come along again, are you?”

Fox stayed quiet as thought on it for a few seconds. “I would”, he said, “but I’m not really the person you should be asking.”

Slippy gulped; Fox could see the nascent guilt written on his face. “…I’ll talk with her about it.”

The vulpine grinned as he dropped his paw, trying to make himself feel happier than he was. “You’re a married man now, Slips. You’re not the only one calling the shots anymore.” As Slippy embarrassedly rubbed the back of his head with his hand, Fox felt his grin grow bit more genuine. “Congratulations on that, by the way.”

“Thanks…”, Slippy responded before letting his arm down with a heaved sigh. “What a _mess_”, he said brokenly.

There was nothing Fox could really say to that – so he didn’t.

……….

It wasn’t so much a question of _could _she do it as it was one of _should _she.

“You’re an interesting figure in all of this, you know”, the Anglar said softly with a conciliatory tone of voice, words underlaid with the mechanical purr of his respiratory apparatus. “A true enigma.”

Krystal didn’t rise to the bait. She continued to sit silently across from Baloz, examining him. She could feel the impatience of the LCI agents watching her from the live feed of the room, but she ignored it. This was the second time she was intervening on their behalf in an essential way in so many hours – she was going to do this the way she wanted.

And that meant feeling out the situation before pressing it – _if _she was going to do so. She was still undecided on if she should. Delving into the mind of a comatose fellow Cerinian with the intent of saving her was one thing. Breaking into a criminal’s head to get answers on his crimes would set a precedent she was deeply uncomfortable with, no matter how detestable the criminal was.

And _oh_, was Baloz detestable.

The Anglar let out a rattled breath as he resettled in his chair. “Why did you choose to cast your lot with Corneria?”, he asked politely. “Or _did _you choose… or was the choice thrust upon you?”

Krystal continued to keep her expression stony as she mired through the conflicting emotional patterns radiating from her subject. Where Fox was gold, Peppy burnt bronze, Baloz was blood. A self-sustaining hurricane of fanaticism. She could barely get a handle on one gale wind of passion before its resultant red iron tide swept her away.

Baloz leaned forward onto the desk conspiratorially, as if to speak more personally to her. “The Prime Minister spoke truth in his final moments, you know. He may have lived his life a liar, but he died an honest man.”

It was the first time he’d mentioned Hart since his capture. “You fed him the words”, Krystal broke her silence.

The bloodstorm grew irritated. “But he said them all the same”, Baloz wheezed. “Did you know? His death wasn’t a certainty.” He leaned in further, giving Krystal a better look at his ruined face than she’d wanted. “He read the script before he delivered the speech. I told him we would spare his life if he forsook all of his ideals for the entire system to see – and he _did_, because he valued his survival more than his beliefs. But if he’d had the fortitude to tell me ‘no’, if he’d been willing to die rather than betray everything he supposedly held true?” Krystal couldn’t see his grin, but she could sense it. “I would’ve let him go.”

“So then you admit to being a liar?”, she asked calmly, all the while sensing not a hint of deceit at the Anglar’s words.

He laughed, and his laughs turned into crackling, mechanical coughs. “I admit to being an arbiter”, he recovered. “I tested your chosen leader, and I found him unworthy. But I suppose it wasn’t his fault.” The Anglar leaned back, relaxed. “He was a true practitioner of the ideals engendered by Lylat – it’s just that the ideals of Lylat are self-defeating.”

Krystal remained placid, unjudging. “You haven’t divulged this information to your other questioners. Why reveal this now?”

He eyed her like she was dimwitted. “Because you’re the only one who’s spoken to me so far whom I _respect_. Why should I want to haggle over information with government stooges whose lives are lived for the sake of labyrinthine entities who care nothing for their existence? You’re a mercenary. You’re still flawed for making the choices you’ve made – but at least you’ve tried to make them for your own benefit.”

His words flowed fast, and left him needing to recuperate his breath for a few moments. Krystal took the time to think over his words, and she found herself feeling something she hadn’t been expecting to.

Pity.

“You’re not any different from the agents who questioned you, Baloz.” She leaned into the desk herself and folded her paws together. “You’re taking orders from someone else. You’re working as a cog in a system just as much as any of us.”

The Anglar shook his head. “No. I do what I do because I _desire_ it. I’m willing to die for a cause I believe in.”

“And we’re not?”

He stared at her for a few seconds – she was shocked to feel the same pity she felt for him echoed in his own emotions. “Perhaps _you _are. But that’s what makes you and your ilk different. Make no mistake, Krystal: you mercenaries have _nothing_ in common with the order you rigidly enforce. You’re better than them. So why not break free?”

They were at an impasse, and they both knew it. Krystal let her emotions wash over and around her as she prepared to truly weather the cyclone of blood that was Baloz’s mind – precedents be damned, it was the only way they were going to get information on the true nature of the invasion.

She drove her psyche closer into the eye of the storm and peeled away the gusts and torrents of malintent and fervor like vines obscuring a hidden doorway. As the last was pulled away, she –

Fell back in her chair with a searing, _burning _pain radiating from her forehead and down through her body, collapsing on the floor to the sound of Baloz’s broken laughter.

“Did you really think I’d enter the lion’s den without protection?”, he chided. “Oh, poor Cerinian. You are a _fool_.”

Several agents stormed through the door behind her, guns trained on the Anglar. Two of them tried to help her up, but she waved them aside as she got up herself. “_How_”, she demanded, fully aware she wasn’t going to get answer.

Baloz let loose that sound of grinding metal she knew was a laugh again. “My lord saw fit to grant me a blessing.” She sensed the careful balance of sarcasm and reverence in his voice. “Who am I to turn aside his benediction?”

“_Interview’s over_”, she heard Mugin’s voice in her ear as the agents signaled her to leave the room. “_You did what you could, and we got a bit more info_.”

_But not enough_, she thought.

Baloz glared at her as she left the room, but his uninjured eye was full of gleeful mania. “I look forward to meeting again, lost Cerinian.”

She didn’t respond as she closed the door behind her and gave into the full-body shiver she’d been holding in since she was rebuffed and recoiled from his mind. Something like an electric shock had reverberated through her psyche, shaking her to her core.

The worst part was that, under it, she sensed the slightest hint of something familiar, but she didn’t know why.

……….

There were three thoughts vying for dominance in Wolf’s mind: that he wanted a cigarette, that he wanted a drink, and that he wanted the damn ape to show up and explain himself already. He didn’t have the first, he didn’t have the second, and – lo and behold – he didn’t have the third.

_Yet_, anyway.

So he kept his vigil, leaning against one of the tiled pillars that honeycombed the balcony, taking in the sight of so many military-grade starships floating on the once-pristine sea. There wasn’t nearly enough room in the resort city’s hangar bay for them, so special exceptions to the ‘no ships’ rule had been made. Small boats hurriedly ferried personnel and supplies back and forth from the floating giants to the town proper, all in preparation of the coming battle. Wolf guessed they had maybe an hour before they were all out of here and Venom-bound.

Well, ‘they’ as in ‘the people actually fighting’. Wolf had no idea what his team was going to do. They hadn’t managed to score a good deal on any starfighters yet, and you couldn’t exactly fly missions without something to fly them in.

“Mr. O’Donnell?”, a deep, well-mannered voice asked. Wolf turned to eye the newcomer only to find he wasn’t as much of a newcomer as he’d been expecting.

The lithe lemur bowed his head. “It’s been some time. I doubt you remember me, but my name is Fandrana.”

Wolf stared him down for a few seconds before answering. “No, I remember you. Didn’t remember your name, but I never forget a face.” The lemur was one of a thousand such faces that haunted him – talented, bright-eyed Venomian recruits. Grist for the mill of Andross’ war. A good chunk of them flew straight into their deaths under Wolf’s command.

The lemur smiled wanly. “Senator Bowman asked me to escort you to his battle cruiser.” He gestured to the lone boxy, burgundy space ship set against the sea of streamlined silver that was the Cornerian fleet.

Wolf’s brow furrowed. He didn’t like that Bowman singled him out for a conversation, and he didn’t like that it was happening on his military vessel. Unlike Fox, he wasn’t a believer – politicians were politicians were politicians, and he’d barely exchanged two sentences with the primate before, back when they flew together in the Blitz. “Why?”, he asked roughly.

Fandrana gave a polite shrug. “It’s not my business to question the Senator’s motives.”

_Of course it’s not_, Wolf thought bitterly. _It never is_.

He followed the lemur wordlessly to the small speedboat anyway, wanting to get this over as quickly and painlessly as possible. Every second spent in the presence of a Venomian soldier on a Venomian ship to meet Venomian leadership was a second too many.

The small boat navigated through a gap in the cruiser’s hull, leading into a partially submerged docking bay on the underside. “This ship is very new, designed to Bowman’s own specifications”, Fandrana provided without Wolf’s asking as they began to dock. “He wanted a naval hangar built-in for easier Anglar accessibility.”

“Fascinating”, Wolf supplied with a gruff tone of voice. The lemur must have taken the hint, because he shut up quickly after that.

They walked through halls and elevators that wound up to the command deck. Soldiers wearing dark navy uniforms and open-faced helmets gawked at him as he passed. The whole design and look of the ship was very different from the Venomian cruisers Wolf had been familiar with in the Lylat War, but every once in a while there would be something – a control panel, a doorframe, a display – that was just familiar enough to raise his hackles. The troopers they passed might be wearing less intimidating and more humanizing gear, but that didn’t change the fact they were primarily made up of reptiles and primates. The occasional Anglar was new though.

Fandrana led him to a conference room off to the side of command. Bowman was already waiting there, staring out the window at the dormant Cornerian fleet in much the same way Wolf had been. The way he held his hands behind his back reminded Wolf eerily of Andross’ mannerisms.

The ape turned to face them and nodded. “Thank you, Captain. You may return to your post.”

The lemur bowed and left – leaving Wolf alone with Andross’ nephew. The room was spotless, silver and brightly lit by Aquas’ balmy sunlight coming through the ceiling-to-floor windows, but Wolf felt cold.

“I know you don’t want to be here, so I’ll make this as quick as possible”, Bowman said without preamble, not moving from his place. He cocked his head towards the window he was looking out of, gesturing for Wolf to stand by him. The lupine frowned, but acquiesced.

Bowman pointed at the flat-topped, open-air deck that made up the bulk of the upper surface of his vessel, where his troops were moving crates around and preparing for transfer into space. Wolf was confused for a second before he spotted it.

Before he spotted _them_.

He folded his arms and backed up, staring Bowman in the eye. “Why?”

The ape smiled with a tad of chagrin. “Weren’t you ever taught not to look a gift horse in the mouth?”

“I was also taught not to accept candy from strangers.”

Bowman’s smile faded a little. “Are we? Strangers, that is.”

Wolf sighed through his nostrils. “No”, he reluctantly answered. “But we’re not friends either, and I need a better reason for this than ‘don’t ask questions’.”

The primate nodded. “Fair enough.” He turned away from Wolf to take a seat at the table – a few seconds passed before he gestured to another chair for the lupine to sit in.

“You’re right – we don’t know each other”, Bowman explained as Wolf dragged a chair along the ground and plopped it in. “But I don’t have to know you personally to know who you are. _What _you are.”

“Well that’s a crock of shit”, Wolf responded.

The primate laughed, shocking Wolf with what a pleasant, good-natured sound it was. Such a kind laugh coming out of such a familiar-looking face was uncanny. “Sorry – it’s my inner senator coming out.” He leaned back in his chair. “But it’s also a little true. I know you flew for my uncle, and I know you regret it. The same’s true for a lot of my most trusted confidants.” At Wolf’s silence, he continued. “And I know you want to protect Fox”, he said more quietly. “That’s as good a reason as any.”

Wolf drummed the fingers of his paw on the table. “You really care about him, don’t you?”

Bowman nodded. “Not just him, but his whole team. They believed in me when no one else would.”

The lupine got back up out of his chair and returned to the window, eying the trio of starfighters. “…Where’d they come from, anyway?”

The primate smiled, damn him. He knew he’d had Wolf hook, line and sinker. “My own design enclave, same one responsible for this starship.” His smile faded a little. “I had plans for Venom to make a name for itself as a premier location for space engineering – a lot of my uncle’s concepts could be reworked into something more socially beneficial, and the Anglars know a lot more than they let on.”

Wolf chewed on his lip. How could a kid this earnest be related to Andross, or even pissants like Andrew? “You got specs?”

“Of course”, he said as he brought up a holo-pad that detailed the fighters’ capabilities. “All three of them are top-of-the-line. I wanted to manufacture a line that could compete with the Arwing.”

“You saying the old ones didn’t?”, Wolf asked half-jokingly.

Bowman grinned mischievously. “I’m saying there was a lot of room for improvement.”

Wolf eyed the rotating fighter in the holo-display with approval for a few more seconds before making eye contact with Bowman again.

“We’ll take’em.”

……….

“Dingo Contingent’s already set up a defensive network around Venom – Shepherd and Bloodhound are still engaged.” Peppy stowed the comm device away in his pocket. “We’re making the warp in twenty minutes. I want you to skip ahead of us and reinforce the contingents that’re already there. They need all the help they can get.”

“Understood”, Fox said with a nod. They were standing on the Hotel’s roof, watching the Great Fox descend from the atmosphere, hull gleaming from the reflected light of Aquas’ sea. “Contingency orders?”

Peppy chewed on his lip. “Fluid. The enemy fleet is large, and only a portion of it’s directly engaged us. We don’t know what the others are waiting for, but our best guess is that they plan to surge into Lylat and cause widespread chaos.”

Fox’s eyes narrowed as he considered the logistics. “Peppy… I don’t know if we’re going to be able to stop them from doing that, if that really is their plan. If they lead a mass invasion with smaller-sized freighters…”

“They’ll slip past us, I know.” A gust of wind buffeted the both of them, bolstered by the Great Fox’s continued descent. “We need to do as much as we can, whatever that ends up being.”

The vulpine nodded hesitantly, and Peppy put on a smile. “We’ve faced worse than this”, the old hare said in a reassuring tone of voice. Fox forced a smile back, and Peppy gripped his paw. “Good luck, Fox.”

“You too, Peppy.”

The downwash from the Great Fox reached an almost gale-force as Peppy turned and headed back down into the hotel. Fox’s eyes squinted in the wind, tails and ears blown back and whipped around. The starship’s hangar leveled with the roof of the building and began to open up, its docking platform extending so they could walk right inside. Fox began to walk inside along Falco and Krystal when he heard Slippy’s voice shouting over the din of the wind.

“_Fox!_”

He turned halfway up the ramp – Slippy and Amanda were sprinting towards them, the former holding onto his baseball cap to stop it from blowing away. “I’m coming along, too!”, his friend yelled.

Fox grinned as the two amphibians caught up with him. “Took you long enough”, he said. “Almost left without you.”

Slippy half-smiled and rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah… there’s sort of, um… a catch, though.”

“I’m coming too”, Amanda said.

Fox did a double take – he wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, if anything, but it hadn’t been that. “Uh, Amanda…”, he started. “We’re going to war…?”

“I can’t fly a starfighter all that well, but I can help with other stuff!” She put her hands on her hips. “I’m not letting Slippy fly off without me, and that’s final.”

Slippy looked even more embarrassed, but Fox didn’t miss the genuineness of his smile.

The vulpine shrugged nonchalantly. “Alright.”

The married couple looked at each other, and then back to Fox. “Just… like that?”, Slippy asked.

“I can’t pretend I’m happy about it, but I’m not in the mood to argue.” He made eye contact with Amanda. “This is temporary, though, alright?”

She smiled, placing a protective hand on Slippy’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The trio jogged up the length of the ramp and into the Great Fox’s hangar, walking between the Arwings (and that hideous, barely-functioning shuttle Wolf had picked up that they still hadn’t pawned off yet) and towards the hallways of the ship, Fox already considering battle strategy for the conflict to come.

“Where’s Wolf and his team?”, Slippy asked.

Fox grinned again, this time more excitedly. “They should be here in… Oh. Now, I guess.”

A trio of sleek, jet-black starfighters with crimson highlights came in for a smooth landing in what paltry space remained in the hangar. Fox made out the words _Wolfen MkII _in small font alongside the sides of their hulls. When Wolf had commed him about Dash’s gift, he wasn’t sure whether he really believed or not.

“_Damn_”, Slippy said, hint of envy coloring his voice. Fox wanted to laugh – only space engineering could make the amphibian swear.

Wolf, Panther and Fay disembarked from their new fighters – Wolf especially carried himself with an extra dose of swagger as he approached Fox. “They fly _real_ smooth, at least from what we got to try out.”

“Good to hear”, Fox said as he walked towards the interior of the Great Fox, hangar bay door closing behind them.

The large group of animals split off to their respective rooms to prepare. Falco was already arguing with Panther about something, Fay trying to get words in edgewise that made no sense given the context of their disagreement. Krystal waved languidly to Fox with a small smile, and he returned it. Slippy and Amanda rushed to the Slippy’s quarters, the latter dragging the former along at an urgent speed.

Fox and Wolf ended up alone together on the bridge with ROB. “Captain. Warp Apparatus is already engaged. Destination: [+x786.23 +y638.29 -rz24.93] – designation: Edge of Neutral Zone, Venomian Sector. We can warp as soon as we clear the planet’s atmosphere.”

Fox nodded. “Good to hear, ROB. Keep me posted.”

“Affirmative.”

The two canines meandered towards the bridge’s main viewing window, watching quietly as the brilliant blue seas of Aquas slowly sank away, and the velvety black expanse of starlit space took its place.

“_Fucking _Venom”, Wolf broke the silence, voice full of the planet’s namesake.

Fox laughed without humor. “We can’t catch a break, can we?”

The brilliant emerald of the warp gate grew before them, replacing the quietude of space with the rush of warp.

Fox wanted to say something, but he didn’t know what. He didn’t know if words would even mean anything right now. Wolf snuck a paw around Fox’s waist – he couldn’t tell if it was meant to reassure him, or if the lupine was seeking reassurance himself. He only spent a second worrying about that, quickly realizing it didn’t matter either way.

The Great Fox’s bow dipped into the teal-green pool and began the journey to Fox’s personal Gehenna. He didn’t need to wonder if Wolf felt the same way about the planet, because he knew he did.

He took one last, fleeting glance at the cerulean marble that was Aquas before they were completely submerged within warp-space, and wondered:

Why was peace always so fleeting?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well! That was a doozy to write. I have quite a bit I want to address in this author's note, so if you're not interested in reading notes I'll quick say: thank you as ALWAYS for feedback of any kind, I love you guys.
> 
> If you do want to read notes: first off, Beltino Toad. I didn't want to talk about this in the comments for the last few chapters because it felt awkward/wrong given the fact it was a high-pitched climax and I didn't want to get into this then. Up until this point, the only characters who have died in this story have been OCs, so I know this one came as a bit of a surprise. I REALLY struggled with this decision despite knowing it was the right one to make because of this. Rest assured, the fallout of his death on Slippy - along with the other 'loose ends' from this story - are going to continue to directly play into future installments. I know I'm trusting you to trust me with all of these characters and locations and plot points and themes, and that's a lot to ask, but I'm hoping you can continue to do so as the series continues.
> 
> Which brings me to point number two: What is going on with this series in terms of length? I've mentioned offhand in comments and so on a few times about having a loose outline, and here it is: Promises on Aquas marks the end of Act I, of what is a two-act story. So as you read this, we are halfway done with my framework for Worlds of Lylat. It probably won't surprise you to learn the next entry is going to jump directly off of the ending of this one, to the point where Aquas and the next story together form the 'middle hump' of this entire series. While there will continue to be new characters and ideas explored in future entries, for the most part, this right here is the 'widest' WoL will get in terms of sheer plot points and characters being juggled - as we enter Act II, we're going to stop seeing buildup, and start seeing payoff.
> 
> That leads into point number three: When? It's no secret I've gotten much busier this last year and have had less time to write. I have absolutely no idea when this series will be finished, but I can tell you when the next update will be. I've hemmed and hawed about writing this series as I go vs. writing it all beforehand and posting it in chunks, and I've come up with a compromise: I'm going to write as much as I can of WoL 8 over the next three months, and regardless of how much is completed, you're getting the next chapter on Christmas. In the meantime, I'll still be sporadically updating on twitter and writing some other small, goofy side projects that have nothing to do with Star Fox, so you have that to look forward to.
> 
> And lastly, point number four: Content. Worlds of Lylat is and always will be a Fox/Wolf story, but up until this point, the balance has been 'Fox/Wolf story that features a larger plot'. As we pivot into the second act, that balance is going to shift more towards 'larger sci-fi action thriller plot in which Fox/Wolf is the prime driver'. To cut past semantics: what that means is that future stories are going to be akin to Promises on Aquas in terms of tone and content. As of right now, I have a pretty solid plan for the rest of the series, and there are no more stand-alone 'Fox/Wolf go on a smutty date' one-shots in that plan because it won't make sense for their relationship and the larger story. There will still be smut, and Fox & Wolf's relationship is the core of the story, but it's going to be more dramatic and tempestuous, is what I'm ultimately getting at here - so if the big draw to this series, for you, is Fox and Wolf having a lot of sweet alone time, I'm just giving you that heads-up in case the reason you're reading is purely for that.
> 
> I hope that clears everything up! If not, comments and twitter DMs are open (my username is Galsult), etc., etc. I hope to see you back, if not for the terrible goofy stories I'm writing to the side, then this Christmas, where you'll get to unlock the mystery of The Ghost of Venom!


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